


something in the way you move

by angejolras



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Blow Jobs, Cunnilingus, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Light Bondage, Oral Sex, Porn With Plot, Semi-Public Sex, Vaginal Fingering, this shit started out as a one-shot and ended up turning into 37k words of FILTH
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-13
Updated: 2018-05-13
Packaged: 2019-05-06 08:37:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 37,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14638164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angejolras/pseuds/angejolras
Summary: Gabriel Enjolras is going through a bit of a dry spell, not that he cares much about his lack of sex, when he meets the cynical Éponine Thénardier, and the two of them hit it off almost immediately before their newfound friendship quickly escalates to what’s originally intended to be a one-night stand until it turns into something more.Friends-with-benefits arrangements don't always have to be complicated by feelings, right?





	1. part i

**Author's Note:**

> this thing started out as a one-shot. i swear. i was going to post it as a one-shot but it became too long so i split it into parts, but i'll post it all at once. it started as a one-shot so it'll be posted as a one-shot. sort of.
> 
> i hope you enjoy this!! i had a lot of fun writing it, i just really wanted an excuse to write enjonine fucking in a whole variety of ways
> 
> title inspired by the magnificent ellie goulding! the fic itself is pretty heavily inspired by [this tumblr post](https://bisexual-eponine.tumblr.com/post/172917571271/authorgod-let-me-just-level-with-you-all-at)

Courfeyrac’s been dragging Enjolras to clubs and bars ever since he decided that the uptight golden-haired man needs to loosen up a bit.

It’s a Friday night like any other, and Enjolras is sitting at the bar and completely ignoring his drink as he watches Courfeyrac dance with some pretty girl before slinking off to chat up some hot guy. He rolls his eyes, thinking about how utterly ridiculous it is that the average amount of sexual partners Courfeyrac has in a week is six. He pokes at his glass, wondering what the hell Courfeyrac’s ordered for him as he picks up the glass and reluctantly takes a sip, only to make a face and put it down again. He feels like sleeping until Combeferre shows up to pick the both of them up when Grantaire makes an appearance, sliding into the stool beside him and looking pretty fucking smashed.

“What’s up, chief?” he greets, letting out a deep laugh and punching Enjolras in the shoulder. How he always manages to remain so eloquent when drunk, Enjolras will never know. “Why aren’t you drinking?”

“I don’t particularly feel like consuming alcohol right now,” he replies tightly, wrinkling his nose. Grantaire looks horrified at his words and calls the bartender over, and Enjolras feels his mouth go dry at the sight of her—she’s an absolute knockout, with thick, dark brown hair flowing down her back, olive skin, an _amazing_ body, laughing brown eyes, a pink, purple, and blue ink-stain tattoo on her left shoulder, three piercings in each ear, lips stained red with deep crimson-coloured lipstick, purple eyeliner around her eyes, and a no-nonsense air about her. He tries not to look like he’s staring as Grantaire greets her with a loopy grin on his face.

“What’s up, Ep?” he greets, holding his hand up for a high five. “Can I get, uh, a dozen shots? Six for me, six for this guy. He needs to get _wasted_.” He points at Enjolras, turning his head to find the golden-haired man practically drooling as he stares at the gorgeous bartender, rendered completely speechless, and an absolutely _evil_ grin spreads across Grantaire’s face and he nudges Enjolras. “By the way, this is Enjolras. Enjolras, meet Éponine.”

So she has a name now. The brunette extends her arm to shake a dazed Enjolras’s hand as she gives him a dimpled grin, saying, “Nice to meet you, Enjolras.”

“It’s—it’s Gabriel,” Enjolras manages to reply without making a complete fool of himself, rather shocked by how this random girl’s _appearance_ has rendered him speechless. He’s not one to be dazed by someone’s looks, and yet here he is, rather stunned by how lovely this Éponine is, with a low-cut tank top that coincidentally happens to be Enjolras’s favourite shade of scarlet and shows off ample cleavage and a black choker around her neck. “Just call me Gabriel.”

Grantaire seems rather shocked by the fact that Enjolras, who isn’t on a first-name basis with anyone besides his parents, has just told Éponine, the _bartender_ , to call him by his first name. The evil grin on his face grows wider and he looks back and forth between Éponine and Enjolras, having a good mind to start playing matchmaker. He knows for a fact that Enjolras hasn’t gotten laid in _ages_ —the last time was with this random dude Courfeyrac set him up with seven months ago, and before that, a girl he had been tutoring. Grantaire’s well aware of the fact that Enjolras is grey ace—as well as pansexual—but that doesn’t mean the typically stoic blond doesn’t enjoy sex. Most of the time he’s indifferent to it, while other times, he’s in dire need of relief. This, it seems, is one of those times in which he’s in dire need of relief, and the gears in Grantaire’s head are already turning as he makes plans to set Enjolras up with Éponine.

Éponine raises an eyebrow at Enjolras’ words and replies, “Okay, Gabriel then. I’ll get you two some shots, on the house.”

Once Éponine is out of earshot, Grantaire spins to look at Enjolras and say rather accusingly, “You like her!”

“No, I don’t,” Enjolras denies, although he’s still staring at Éponine, who has her back turned to him and Grantaire. When she sweeps her hair aside, he notices the tattoo on her back, just below her neck—it’s a phrase written in pitch-black cursive, which says “bisexuals are confused—by your ignorance”. Raising an eyebrow, he asks Grantaire, “She’s bi too?”

Grantaire nods, taking a swig of his beer. “We bi folks tend to gravitate towards each other. I met her at one of those queer youth groups back in high school, actually. We’ve been best friends ever since. She’s trying to get a job and is currently living on my futon and supporting herself by working as a bartender in the meantime.”

“Talking about me?” Éponine’s returned with a tray of shot glasses and a knowing smile on her face, and Enjolras immediately turns flaming red at being caught. She lets out a hearty, pretty laugh and places the shot glasses before Enjolras and Grantaire, telling them, “Knock yourselves out.”

A drunk, middle-aged man nearby hollers for the bartender, and Éponine makes a face when she sees that it’s one of those sleazy guys from the notorious gang known as Patron-Minette. “I’ll see you two around; I’ve gotta go deal with that guy,” she tells Enjolras and Grantaire before leaving to deal with that man. Grantaire immediately turns back to Enjolras, a gleeful, evil grin on his face.

“You do like her!” the dark-haired man accuses, bouncing up and down in his seat. “I’ve never seen that look on your face before! Enjy, my dear, you’re in desperate need of pussy. Or dick. Whichever. You just need to get _laid_.”

“I’d rather not,” Enjolras replies wryly. “I’ve gone this long without having sex and I’m not dead of blue balls yet, I’ll be fine.”

“But here’s the perfect opportunity!” Grantaire points out, looking over his shoulder at Éponine. “I can tell she’s into you.”

“She made no such indication,” Enjolras contradicts, feeling his cheeks flush red. Éponine had seemed completely at ease, chatting to Enjolras as if they’re old friends instead of acting flustered and nervous like he assumes most people who are attracted to someone are when speaking to that someone.

“I’ve known her since high school, Enj,” Grantaire reminds the other man, following Enjolras’s gaze and smirking to himself when he finds that the golden-haired man is still staring at Éponine, transfixed. “I’m an expert in the many moods of Éponine Amélie Thénardier. She is definitely interested.”

“I beg to differ,” Enjolras mutters, absent-mindedly taking one of the shot glasses and taking a shot, letting the burning liquid slide down his throat before he fully realises what he’s doing. Grimacing, he places the shot glass back down, shaking his head. “Why do I let you guys talk me into going here?”

“Because you need to get laid,” Grantaire replies simply. “And here is a _perfect_ opportunity. You two seem pretty into each other, so here’s your chance! Take her home! Give her a night she’ll never forget! Jesus, your body is practically screaming at you to stick it in someone.”

“Jesus Christ.” Enjolras puts his head down on the countertop and groans loudly at Grantaire’s choice of words, burying his face in his arms just as Éponine comes back over to them, a curious look on her face at the sight of Enjolras.

“What’s up with him?” she asks Grantaire inquisitively, her brow furrowing. Enjolras’ head immediately shoots up, rather flustered by the fact that she saw him like that, his cheeks turning pink. Éponine laughs at the look on his face, commenting offhandedly with a little dimpled smile on her face, “You’re cute.” She turns back to Grantaire, telling him, “Well, my shift’s just ended, so I can spare some time for you guys. What’s up?”

“Pretty boy’s dick,” Grantaire replies, a shit-eating grin on his face. Enjolras turns even redder and punches Grantaire in the shoulder, glaring at him for making such a vulgar comment. The dark-haired man merely cackles and slides off his stool, saying, “Well, I’ll leave you two to get to know each other. I think Courf is calling for me.”

Once Grantaire is out of sight, Éponine turns to Enjolras with a raised eyebrow. “Okay, that was weird. But I digress. Gabriel, right?”

Enjolras nods, his gaze wandering down as he glimpses her cleavage, and he forces himself to look back into her eyes, turning scarlet. “R told me you’re looking for a job,” he tries. She nods in confirmation.

“I haven’t been able to get any work besides bartending,” she frets, leaning on her elbows over the counter. “Job interviews are pretty fucking stressful. I’ve been blowing most of them.”

“The newspaper I work for might have an opening,” Enjolras tells her. “I think the editor is looking for an assistant. I could give you her number.”

“Would you really?” Éponine breathes a sigh of giddy relief, although she’s rather confused by why this near stranger is offering to help her get a job. She only met him ten minutes ago through a mutual friend—said mutual friend is now drunkenly dancing with some random redhead and they’re practically fucking on the dance floor—and now they’re chatting as if they’ve known each other their whole lives. This Enjolras guy is kind of cute, too—no, scratch that. He’s a fucking knockout, with gorgeous blue eyes, a very defined jawline, those golden curls upon his head, a stupid butt chin that makes him look even hotter for some inexplicable reason, and evident muscles that look like they’re going to explode out of that long-sleeved button-up shirt. She doesn’t doubt that he’s got some rock-hard abs underneath that obnoxiously red shirt, and he seems pretty tall too—and everyone knows what they say about tall guys. Needless to say, she’s interested.

Enjolras nods. “Sure, why not?”

Éponine laughs and bows her head for a moment before looking up to gaze back into his eyes, asking, “Why are you being so nice to me?”

Enjolras shrugs. “You intrigued me.”

Éponine laughs even more and leans in closer, a half-smile on her face. “Forgive me if I’m prying, but R told me that you’re going through some sort of dry spell and you haven’t gotten laid in seven months. Is that true?”

Enjolras turns red and turns around to glare at Grantaire, who has the most infuriating smirk on his face as he shoots the golden-haired man a double thumbs up. “Jesus fucking Christ, R,” he mutters under his breath. What the fuck?

Éponine bursts out laughing once more and covers her mouth with her hand, trying to get her laughter under control. “Seriously? A hot guy like you? I kind of doubt it,” she says, looking him up and down.

Enjolras blushes even harder, trying not to think too much about the fact that she just called him hot, and he crosses his legs at that dreaded feeling in his pants, cursing the universe. “Well, it’s true, I’m afraid,” he confirms, his cheeks burning.

Éponine smiles and shakes her head, leaning in to murmur in what Enjolras is absolutely certain is a seductive tone, “Want to change that?”

 _I am so fucking hard right now,_ he thinks, trying not to blush so much as he feels his mouth go dry at her words. “I—um—”

Éponine laughs yet again, telling him, “I was just joking! Well, mostly. You’re really hot, and I’m not going to lie about the fact that I’d sleep with you if you’re willing.”

Grantaire seems to have failed to tell Enjolras that this girl is insanely blunt, almost inappropriately so, and Enjolras blushes even harder, cursing out the universe for his inopportune hard-on. Éponine is turning him the fuck on and he hates himself for letting himself get so fucking turned on. Éponine makes her way around the counter to sit down beside him as he attempts to will away his boner, crossing his legs and readjusting his pants so she wouldn’t see how she’s making a fool out of him. He notices that she has black ripped jeans on, and that somehow makes her even more attractive to him as he tries not to look like he’s staring at her.

“The last time was with this guy Courf set me up with,” Enjolras tells her, his cheeks burning. Grantaire’s already told her anyway about how he hasn’t gotten laid in ages, so what’s the harm in a bit of oversharing? “His roommate walked in on us while he was…” He immediately cuts himself off—as tempting as oversharing is, he’s certain that Éponine wouldn’t want to hear of him being walked in on while some other man, and a complete stranger at that, sucked his dick. “Well, let me just say that was not my finest moment,” Enjolras says, turning beet red at the memory. He’s never ever letting Courfeyrac set him up with anyone ever again. “And then before that, it was a girl I had been tutoring. She threw herself at me and I was in need of relief at the time, so we hooked up. I never tutored her again.”

“Jesus fuck,” Éponine remarks, laughing. “Sounds like you’ve had your fair share of sexcapades.”

“No, not really,” Enjolras contradicts, offering her one of the shot glasses before she shakes her head. “I just need relief sometimes.”

“Understandable,” Éponine says, taking his hand in hers and squeezing it, making him blush even harder. “You bi too then?”

“I’m pan,” Enjolras gently corrects. “Grey ace and pansexual.”

“Ah, got it.” The two of them just sit in silence for a few more moments, Éponine seeming rather oblivious to how hard Enjolras is staring at her, and her eyes flick to his pants for just a millisecond, noticing, for the first time, how he’s crossing his legs, and her lips curve into a knowing, naughty grin.

“Want to dance, pretty boy?” she offers, standing up and holding her hand out. Enjolras finds himself nodding, and soon enough, the two of them are on the dance floor, dancing around to Ellie Goulding as Enjolras attempts to initiate conversation.

“You—you’re a good dancer,” he manages to compliment her as she laughs, twirling around in his arms. There’s a considerable height difference between them—she barely reaches his chin, and it’s rather endearing to see her dance around and let loose to the music.

“I used to dance in a club,” Éponine admits, turning rather pink as Enjolras’s blue eyes widen at this revelation. “I was pretty desperate for money back then, so I resorted to pole dancing. Bartending isn’t much better, but at least I don’t have to dance for sleazy, rich, racist, sexist white middle-aged assholes to earn money.”

 _Explains the arms,_ Enjolras thinks to himself, having noticed her well-defined arms earlier. From the one time Grantaire forced him into going to a strip club with him, he knows that pole dancing is no easy feat.

“You’re one of the only people I’ve ever told about my deep, dark past,” Éponine tells him, her tone taking a decidedly more joking turn as she grabs Enjolras’s hands and firmly places them on her waist, allowing him to pull her close until they’re pressed up against each other. “You better not betray my trust.”

“I would never,” Enjolras promises, finding himself being entranced by this beautiful brunette, whose moves seem completely natural and smooth as the two of them dance together. She’s incredibly flexible as well, putting her leg up on Enjolras’ shoulder and making him gulp and then doing the splits in front of him before getting back up again without a hitch, a little grin gracing her lips at the stunned look on Enjolras’s face.

The music has gotten faster and Enjolras is practically pressed up against Éponine as they dance around, and he’s too shy to let the dancing escalate like Courfeyrac and Grantaire have—the two of them seem to be making out with each other now for no reason other than the fact that they’re both totally buzzed. Éponine’s dancing is rather provocative, and Enjolras finds himself fighting back another boner and promptly failing to do so as she dances around him seductively. She has a teasing smirk on her face as she wraps her arms around his neck, gazing into his blue eyes as her brown eyes darken, her hips swaying from side to side. She steals a glance at his crotch and the smirk on her face grows wider at the sight of him badly trying to hide his hard-on as she dances around him, practically giving him a lap dance while he’s standing up, grinding against him and swaying her hips as she drags her hands all over his body, feeling his abs through his shirt and squeezing that fine, firm ass of his. He swallows as she stands before him and shakes her hips back and forth, showing off her beautiful ass, and soon enough she’s in his arms again and they’re dancing around together, shamelessly provocative. Well, Éponine seems to be shameless about it. Enjolras is trying hard not to blush too much as she turns around and lightly grinds against him, losing herself in the music.

Nearby, Courfeyrac and Grantaire have stopped sucking face long enough to glimpse Enjolras dancing with Éponine, and evil grins spread across both their faces at the sight of the so-called marble man engaged in a provocative dance with their darling bartender. “Looks like our Enjy is finally going to get laid,” Courfeyrac comments under his breath.

“He better,” Grantaire huffs. “Most people would have gone crazy by now after not having had sex in seven fucking _months_.”


	2. part ii

Around one o’clock in the morning, Éponine and Enjolras are the only ones left in the bar, and Enjolras is sitting at the counter as Éponine closes up the place, rather spent from that night’s dancing. “God, I’m exhausted,” she complains as she exits the back room with a tight black leather jacket on. Enjolras had thought she couldn’t possibly become even more appealing to him—it seems that he was sorely mistaken. “R’s probably brought someone home. I’d rather not walk in on him fucking a stranger. Or worse, fucking someone I know.”

“Do you want to come back with me to my place?” Enjolras offers before he can stop himself. Éponine tilts her head at the offer, giving him a look of utter surprise and perplexity. After a few moments of careful consideration, she finally responds.

“Is that an invitation for sex?” she questions, blunt as ever. When Enjolras turns red and begins to attempt to stammer out a response, she quickly cuts him off. “I’m all for it, so why not?”

Enjolras is rather caught off-guard by the fact that she actually said yes, and then he’s babbling, “Oh, great, I can call us a cab or something, we—”

“Go ahead and do that,” Éponine interjects, smiling and shaking her head at how adorably flustered this hottie seems to be. “I’ll finish closing up.”

Once the both of them are out on the pavement, they stand beneath a streetlamp as they await their cab that’s to take them back to Enjolras’s apartment. There’s a bit of a chill in the air, and Éponine shivers slightly, leading to Enjolras immediately taking his jacket off to put on her shoulders as she stares up at him incredulously.

“I didn’t know you were such a gentleman,” she teases, bumping his shoulder with hers as she wraps his jacket around herself.

“You seemed cold,” he replies lamely as their cab arrives, stopping right in front of them and allowing the both of them to crawl into the backseat. Éponine laughs at his chivalry and takes his hand in hers, squeezing it.

The car ride back to Enjolras’ place is painfully silent, but thank fuck the driver doesn’t try to initiate conversation, and the both of them make sure to heavily tip the driver when they get off. Enjolras leads Éponine back up to his apartment and the two of them stand on his doorstep, just staring at each other, at a loss for words after Éponine hands Enjolras back his jacket. At last, he breaks the silence, unable to stand it for any longer.

“I’m sorry, it’s been a long time since I last did this kind of thing,” he apologises, his cheeks flushing pink.

“Yeah, I heard,” Éponine replies, a joking edge to her tone. She decides to just fuck it and she takes his face into her small hands, standing on tiptoe and pressing her lips to his.

Enjolras feels like his brain is short-circuiting as she gently kisses him, her soft lips moving against his, and maybe it’s the fact that he hasn’t so much as kissed anyone in seven months, but he feels as if she’s the best kisser he’s ever encountered, and then he’s kissing her back, wrapping his arms around her waist as she slides her arms around his neck, kissing him enthusiastically until they break apart for air, their cheeks flushed as they stare into each other’s eyes.

“This could work,” she whispers, a naughty little smile on her face, and he reaches into his pocket for his keys and fumbles with them for quite a bit due to his dazed state until he finally manages to unlock his apartment, and once they’re inside his apartment and have locked the door behind them, Éponine is throwing off her leather jacket and Enjolras is tossing his own jacket aside and she jumps up on top of him, hooking her legs around his waist and pressing her lips to his in a fierce kiss, one of her hands in his hair as his tongue slides across her teeth in an impatient request for entry, and she parts her lips, feeling his tongue making its way into her mouth and moaning at the feeling of his furious kisses. Éponine jumps down and the two of them stumble blindly down the hallway, locked in a fervent, passionate kiss, and once they reach the bedroom, he fumbles with the doorknob until he manages to throw open the door, nearly causing the both of them to fall backwards inside, and they stumble back to the bed before Éponine falls backwards onto the sheets, Enjolras on top of her, and the two of them break apart, breathing rather heavily.

“I like it rough,” she whispers throatily to him, her hands fumbling with the buttons of his shirt, desperate to take it off.

“Good, so do I,” he replies hoarsely, leaning in for another hard kiss as she loses her patience and rips his shirt off, popping quite a few buttons and not giving a shit as she throws it aside, now trying to get his undershirt off as he kisses her fiercely, his tongue shoved down her throat as moans and sighs escape her lips. They break apart momentarily to allow Éponine to pull Enjolras’ undershirt over his head, leaving him gloriously shirtless, and she pauses for a moment to trace his abs, rather stunned by the fact that he has an actual, well-defined six pack in addition to those guns.

“You know, you just might be the hottest person I’ve ever hooked up with,” she whispers to him, noticing the little tattoo on his hip for the first time. She begins to laugh, her hand going up to her mouth at the sight of the small Gryffindor crest tattooed on his hip. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“I was eighteen when I got it,” Enjolras defends, turning red. Almost as red as his tattoo. “Don’t make fun of me.”

“I wasn’t going to, I was just about to say that I’m a Gryffindor too,” Éponine replies, grinning up at him. “Now shut the fuck up and kiss me.”

Enjolras complies after he tugs Éponine’s tank top over her head and takes her choker off, tossing the both of them aside, and then he’s madly kissing her again before his lips makes their way up her jaw and down her neck, and he doesn’t attempt to restrain himself as he harshly sucks and bites at her neck, making her cry out as he leaves dark purple and red marks all over her neck before making his way further down, pressing kisses to her cleavage before looking up at her expectantly, waiting for a sign that it’s okay to take off her lacy black bra.

“Just take it off,” she instructs, feeling the space between her legs heat up as she grows wet, soaking into her matching black lace panties. She just hopes he’ll live up to her expectations—he certainly _looks_ like a sex god, but who’s to say that he actually is?

Enjolras nods and dutifully unclasps her bra, tossing it off the bed and stopping for a moment just to admire the curve of her breasts, gently touching them and taking in the sight of her somewhat small but perfectly perked breasts and her hourglass shape, enjoying how she blushes under his reverent gaze. He notices how her lipstick is smudged and thinks that some of it must have rubbed off on his lips as well as he takes one of her hardened nipples into his mouth, fondling her other breast with his large hand and his other hand drifting down to unzip her jeans, making her cry out when he nibbles at her nipple. He momentarily detaches himself from her to gaze up at her and say rather accusingly, “You ruined my favourite shirt.”

“Oh, shut up, I’ll buy you a new one,” Éponine replies huffily, grabbing his golden curls in her hand. She’s just about to push him back down before he speaks up again.

“What do you want me to do?” Enjolras asks, looking up at her expectantly.

Éponine’s brow furrows, and she asks, “What do you mean?”

“I don’t want to leave you unsatisfied,” he explains, shrugging. For what’s probably the third time in all his twenty-five years of living, he actually feels sexually attracted to someone, and he wants nothing more than to be able to successfully satisfy her. That and manage to ask her out on a date without stammering his way through, but that’s beside the point right now, and why is he thinking about such things anyway? They’ve literally just met that day. “I want you to get as much out of this as I probably will.”

Éponine finds herself at a loss for words. This is new. She’s never had a guy ask her about her needs in sex before—women knew how to pleasure her just fine, so that wasn’t a problem, but before this, a man’s never asked her about what she wants him to do to her and she was always left unsatisfied, so she has no idea how to respond.

“Are you, by chance, any good at eating a girl out?” she questions, always one to get straight to the point. His cheeks turn fiery red.

“I—I mean, I’ve—I’ve done it a few times before,” he stammers out, amazed by this girl’s honesty. “They all seemed to like it.”

“Well, then, just know that I’m a big fan of getting eaten out,” Éponine tells him, grinning even more when he blushes even harder at her words. It turns him on even more, and he can feel his pants grow uncomfortably tight around the crotch. “Just a tip for you if you _really_ want to satisfy me. Now, are you good with those fingers of yours?” Early on, she noticed his large hands and those long fingers, and she can’t help but think about how those fingers could make a girl see stars when used right.

“Yes, I am,” Enjolras responds, confident for once in his abilities, and so Éponine tugs off her jeans to toss them aside, leaving her in just her panties.

“Resume what you were doing,” Éponine commands, and Enjolras begins to suck on her nipple again as his other hand caresses and massages her other breast. She lets out a long, shaky moan, her hands finding their way into his hair and grabbing clumps of his golden curls as he alternates between breasts, pressing kisses all over her chest and leaving faint pink marks in her cleavage as his other hand drifts down towards her panties. She reaches down, fumbling a bit with his belt before she finally succeeds in undoing his belt and tugging his pants down, her small hand brushing his manhood and making him shudder as he slips his large hand into her panties, pressing two fingers into her wet folds.

“Oh, Gabriel…” Her long, drawn-out moan of his name spurs him on, and he begins to press kisses all over her neck, collarbone, and breasts as he ruthlessly teases her, stroking around her centre and making her squirm and leaving hickeys all over her chest.

“ _Fuck_ , quit teasing, you asshole,” Éponine huffs before letting out a particularly loud moan when he lets a finger slip into her before pulling out almost immediately, still stroking her to wetness and revelling in the sound of her desperate whines.

Enjolras smirks and shakes his head, continuing to slowly tease her, wanting to turn her into a red-faced mess before he can properly pleasure her. The sounds of Éponine’s moans are music to his ears, and he _loves_ how she cries out whenever he harshly bites down on the sensitive skin of her neck. He misses this, he realises—it’s been a long time since he last had sex, and maybe it’s because of how long it’s been, but he feels even more aroused than he’s ever been. There’s also the fact that Éponine claims to like it rough as well, so he certainly won’t be one to hold back.

“ _Gabriel_ ,” Éponine whines breathlessly, her voice shaky and desperate, her fingers threading through Enjolras’ golden curls, pulling at them as he strokes her around her centre and driving her mad with want as he teases her ruthlessly. A squeal escapes her lips when he leaves yet another hickey on her chest, biting and sucking hard at the skin, and she’s pulling on his hair as he strokes her folds before finally giving in and slipping two long fingers into her, grinning to himself when he hears her gasp in surprise as he begins to move his fingers inside her, pumping and scissoring and feeling around her wet core, revelling in the sound of her moans and squeals of his name. He picks up the pace, making her moans increase in volume as he presses kisses all over her chest and collarbone and neck, loving how she writhes and wriggles beneath him, desperate for release.

“Gabriel!” she squeals, her hips bucking up as he inserts another finger, nearly making her lose her mind. “Oh, fuck, just like that, Gabriel…”

“Do you like that?” he murmurs, his tone low and husky and seductive. She nods breathlessly and lets out another squeal when he begins to pump even faster, not holding himself back as he furiously pumps in and out of her, revelling in the sound of her loud, high-pitched moans of his name as he pleasures her while biting at her neck, making her see stars. She’s just on the brink of orgasm when he stops abruptly, wanting to savour this moment and make her beg, and she lets out a tormented cry when he takes his fingers out of her and licks away her juices.

“Don’t do that,” she pants, red in the face and rather teary-eyed. It’s quite obvious that she’s desperate for release, and Enjolras merely smirks at her as he leans down to capture her lips in another kiss, his hand fondling her breast as she moans against his lips, grinding against his erection through his underwear, the only barriers between them being their underclothes. He kisses her hard, his teeth digging too harshly into her bottom lip and their tongues nearly suffocating each other as she grinds against him, trying to relieve the ache between her legs. “Gabriel, _please_ ,” she all but begs when he pulls away from her to gaze into her eyes.

He finally gives in and tugs her panties off, leaving her beautifully naked beneath him, and he wastes no time in dipping two digits beneath her folds and stroking her as she mewls in pleasure, her choked moans and tiny sighs spurring him on. She squeals when she feels two long fingers filling her, wriggling as he begins to pump furiously and make her lose her mind, and she shuts her eyes, her hips bucking up as desperate moans and gasps of his name interspersed with strings of incomprehensible curse words fall from her lips. He continues to pleasure her with his fingers until she can say nothing but his name, repeating it like a prayer, strangled moans escaping her lips. He leans down to capture her lips in yet another fierce kiss, pumping and scissoring even faster as she lets out a squeal against his mouth, moaning his name, her face flushed as she rolls her hips against his hand, desperate for orgasm. She screams into his mouth when his thumb begins to toy with her swollen clit, rubbing it and softly pressing it as his fingers explore her core. He’s rubbing circles against her clit and pumping fast and hard, his lips against her neck as he bites and sucks at the sensitive skin, and she unravels at the seams and tightens around his fingers, squealing out his name and going limp beneath him, her chest heaving and her eyes rolling back in her head, saying his name until it turns into a long, drawn-out moan, spots of white light dancing behind her eyes. “Gabriel…”

Once Enjolras pulls his fingers out of Éponine and licks away her juices, he doesn’t hesitate to kiss her again before beginning to trail kisses down to her stomach, taking his sweet time in teasing her as he kisses the insides of her thighs, licking at and kissing the sensitive skin between her thighs. She draws a sharp breath at the feeling of his shallow, exhilarated breaths against her sex and she immediately melts, turning into a whining mess the moment he presses a kiss against her slit. “ _Gabriel_ ,” she whines when he kisses around her opening, occasionally allowing his tongue to dip between her folds and eliciting loud moans from her as her fingers thread through his hair, grabbing his golden curls to firmly keep him in place. “ _Please_ …”

“You’re dripping. You’re an impatient little thing, aren’t you?” Enjolras chuckles, looking up to find Éponine glaring down at him, fire in her darkened eyes. He’s a completely different person in bed—less tense, much more confident, and shameless in his ways of seduction. “Well, since you asked nicely…”

He clamps his mouth over her clit, savouring her little surprised gasp as his tongue dips between her folds, finding its way into her core while he begins to suck on her clit, the sounds of her strangled moans and needy sighs filling the room. He pulls away slightly and runs his tongue up and down her slit, making her shudder as her fingers wind tighter into his hair, and he licks around her folds, avoiding her centre for quite a bit until she sounds like she’s on the verge of tears, wanting nothing more than for his tongue to be inside her. Enjolras smirks in satisfaction when Éponine moans breathlessly, “ _Gabriel!_ ”

He clamps his mouth over her clit once more, beginning to suck hard on the little bundle of nerves as his tongue explores her core, going as deep as he can go, tasting her and savouring her, and she’s writhing beneath him as loud moans and squeals and occasionally shrieks leave her lips. He laps furiously at her, his tongue lapping fast and hard at her sweet spot as she pulls on his hair, letting out a scream of his name when he sucks even harder on her clit. “Oh, _Gabriel_!”

Éponine’s hips are bucking up as Enjolras sucks on her clit, furiously lapping at her, feeling as if she’s on cloud nine and letting out breathless moans of his name, gasping and cursing him out and feeling him chuckle while he’s lapping generously at her. She grabs at his hair, her grip on his golden curls growing even tighter as he ups his game, pressing her down as her hips buck up while his tongue laps at her even faster still, sucking on her clit, and she lets out a scream of his name as she loses her mind, blinded by the force of her orgasm while he continues to fiercely lap at her, evidently not planning on stopping anytime soon.

“Gabriel!” she shrieks in pure ecstasy as he continues to devour her, licking into her at a furious pace and sucking on her little bundle of nerves. She feels herself beginning to lose control yet again at the sound and feeling of his growls and groans against her clit, and soon enough, she’s practically pulling his hair out as she reaches another violent climax, screaming his name and moaning loudly, writhing beneath him. He pulls back once she goes limp beneath him, breathless and beautiful, and he smirks down at her, her juices glistening on his lips as she grabs him by the shoulders and pulls him down for another harsh kiss, moaning aloud upon tasting herself on his lips.

Enjolras yelps when Éponine somehow manages to flip the both of them over so she’d be on top this time and she all but rips his boxers off so he’d be left naked beneath her, beginning to stroke his swollen length in a teasing manner and making him shudder, a low, strangled groan falling from his lips. “God, Éponine,” he groans hoarsely, drawing a sharp, shaky breath as she runs her small hands up and down his length, stroking and teasing him as she smirks down at him, a naughty look in her hooded eyes.

Éponine leans down, pressing a kiss to his tattoo before asking quietly, “May I?” When Enjolras quickly nods yes, she takes him into her mouth, swallowing the precum off the slit as her small hands squeeze and stroke the base of his swollen length, making him groan from deep in his throat at the feeling of her plump lips around his manhood.

“ _Éponine_ …” God, the sound of his moans is the sexiest fucking thing she’s ever heard, and she effortlessly sucks him off, knowing how to keep him on the edge and leave him hot and bothered. She takes all of him into her mouth, refusing to let her gag reflexes kick in when she feels his hips buck up involuntarily as she hums from deep in her throat, bobbing her head up and down as she swirls her tongue around the head of his cock and strokes his balls, losing herself to the sound of his moans.

Enjolras feels like he’s in paradise—a beautiful girl is sucking his dick and his hands are in her hair as strangled groans sound from the back of his throat, and just when he feels like he’s going to lose it, red-faced and panting heavily, she stops, detaching herself from him with a vulgar pop of her lips and crawling back up to face him, a lewd little smirk on her face.

“Did you like that, pretty boy?” she asks breathlessly, one of her hands drifting down to squeeze his manhood as she leans in for a kiss, nipping at his bottom lip and eliciting a low moan from him. “There’s more where that came from.”

“I have condoms in the drawer,” he tells her hoarsely, gazing up at her and reaching up to caress her cheek, tracing her jaw with his thumb as he gazes up at her thoughtfully. Éponine is beautiful, he decides, with her darkened, lustful eyes, her sly dimpled smile, and her thick locks of deep brown hair swept to one side and falling onto the deep burgundy sheets. She turns faintly red under the dim lights, blushing under his gaze, and she freezes momentarily when he leans up and kisses her, gentle and loving and less insistent than their previous kisses, and she kisses him back after a few moments of hesitation, feeling goosebumps erupt along her skin from the feeling of his thumb tracing her jaw as he kisses her tenderly. When she pulls away from him, simply gazing into his darkened blue eyes, she shivers when he traces her curves, marvelling at the beauty of her bare body as he gazes up at her, wanting nothing more than to kiss her again.

What is he doing? He told her he likes rougher sex and so does she, and he refuses to let down a woman such as her.

“Éponine,” Enjolras whispers hoarsely. When she gives him a questioning look, he reminds her, “Condom.”

“Oh. Right.” Éponine laughs to herself and crawls over to the edge of the bed, opening the drawer and grabbing a condom. When she comes back to him, she doesn’t hesitate to tear the wrapper open and discard it on the floor, immediately rolling the condom over his hardened shaft and eliciting a low, strangled groan from him. She straddles him, positioning herself above him and beginning to slowly slide down on his cock, nearly losing her fucking mind at the feeling of his thick, swollen length filling her, and she mewls loudly, small gasps and sighs falling from her lips as she sinks down on him, listening to the sound of his choked moans and low, hoarse groans of her name.

“Oh, fucking hell, Éponine,” Enjolras curses, struggling not to lose it at the feeling of her warmth engulfing him, closing in on him. She leans down to kiss him, moaning into his mouth and further arousing him.

Once he’s completely inside her, she begins to slowly move up and down the length of his shaft, gaining speed as she rides him and moaning out his name, throwing her head back and mewling in pleasure, riding him with all she has as she rakes her fingers down his chest, nearly drawing blood, and he suddenly flips the both of them over so he’d be on top this time.

“Hey!” Éponine cries out in protest, glaring up at Enjolras as he stares down at her with a hungry look in his blue eyes, wanting nothing but her. She lets out a scream when he begins to rapidly pound into her, driving her into the bed and leaning down to bury his face in her neck as her hands go to his back, raking her nails down his back and nearly drawing blood as screams of his name fall from her lips from the force of his thrusts. He winces at the feeling of her nails digging into his skin, and he pounds harder into her, harshly biting at her neck and chest and making her scream even louder, her shouts and shrieks ringing out through the room. He growls from deep in his throat as she rakes her nails down his back, retaliating by pounding even harder into her, driving her into the bed and revelling in the sound of her screams as she hooks her legs around his waist so he would be buried deeper within her, pulling him even closer to her and rolling her hips against his in a desperate attempt for more friction as he sucks and bites at her neck and chest, causing her to lose her mind.

“Oh, _harder_ , Gabriel!” Éponine shrieks, blinded by ecstasy, her nails harshly digging into his back as he drives her into the bed, pounding into her, hard and fast and furious, kissing and sucking and biting her neck. She screams even louder when he reaches between them to rub her clit, sending her closer to the edge, and she’s seeing stars as he rams into her at a furious pace, rough and unrelenting, his cock grinding against her walls roughly at machine-gun speed and hitting all the right spots with each well-angled jerk of his hips, her screams of his name growing ever louder. He detaches himself from her neck and moves to press his lips to hers in a filthy kiss absolutely loaded with innuendo, his teeth biting at her bottom lip and his tongue forcing its way into her mouth. His strangled groans and pained grunts are drowned out by the volume of her screams, and he’s absolutely certain his neighbours will hate him forever after this night.

“Oh, God, Éponine,” he pants into her mouth, kissing her even harder as one of his large hands firmly grasps her hip, the other rubbing and pinching her clit to send her even closer to the edge. “ _Fuck_ , Éponine—”

Éponine screams into Enjolras’ mouth when she loses control, tightening around him and squeezing him like a vice as her nails dig into his back, very nearly drawing blood, a scream of his name escaping her lips as she continues to roll her hips against his at a frantic pace, her walls tightening around him and leading him to his own end. He releases with a long, drawn-out, strangled groan of her name, detaching his lips from hers as his blue eyes squeeze shut, his rhythm growing erratic as he comes hard and goes limp on top of her, breathing heavily. He soon opens his eyes to find her panting beneath him, her face flushed and her entire body covered with a light sheen of sweat as her chest heaves with heavy, uneven breaths, coming down from her absolutely amazing high.

Enjolras gazes down at her, completely taken by this woman and feeling as if he’s falling in love with her body. She’s beautiful, with her faded scars and tattoos and stretch marks here and there. Being able to give her multiple orgasms feels like his greatest accomplishment at that very moment.

He leans down to kiss her again as he pulls out of her, disposing of the condom and slipping two fingers inside her, enjoying her little gasp of surprise. Her gasp soon turns into a series of desperate moans as he teases her, slowly pumping and hooking his fingers inside her and briefly rubbing circles into her clit before stopping almost immediately every time. She melts under his touch, turning into a whining mess as his fingers dance between her thighs, teasing her relentlessly, and she rolls her hips against his hand.

“ _Gabriel_ ,” she whines, a pleading tone in her voice, almost _begging_. He smirks at her and begins to furiously pump, his fingers hooking and curling inside her and his thumb rubbing her clit as gasps and moans of his name leave her lips. She melts, whining and pleading for him to go faster as she feels herself get closer to the edge, just on the brink of orgasm. Her hand drifts down before he forcefully slaps it away, continuing to pump inside her and rub her clit even more insistently, her juices coating his fingers. He pumps faster, and soon enough, she’s squealing and gasping as she tightens around his fingers, coming fast and hard and moaning out his name. She soon goes limp beneath him and sighs, rather amazed by how damn _good_ he is as he lies down beside her, pulling up the covers to their necks and chuckling softly.

“ _Fuck_ , you’re good,” Éponine murmurs, turning on her side to look at him. “You got any more tricks up your sleeve, pretty boy?”

Enjolras smirks back at her—damn, that smirk of his is enough to make her wet already—and sits back up, murmuring huskily, “You ready for round two, angel?”

After two more _immensely_ satisfying rounds, Éponine and Enjolras collapse next to each other in his bed, trying to steady their breathing as they come down from their highs. Enjolras is quite drowsy at this point, and a drowsy Enjolras tends not to think things through due to his subconscious want for sleep. He snuggles closer to Éponine, throwing an arm over her bare waist and burying his face in her shoulder as he mumbles sleepily, “You smell like cinnamon.”

Éponine laughs at the odd comment, unthinkingly kissing the top of his head and whispering in reply, “Is that a good thing?”

“Very,” Enjolras mumbles in reply, letting out an enormous yawn. “Cinnamon’s my—my favourite scent.”

“Well, aren’t you just eloquent after sex,” Éponine quips, chuckling softly.

Enjolras struggles to keep his eyes open, but when he manages to do so for longer than three seconds, he finds himself simply staring at Éponine, already enchanted by her despite having met her a mere twelve hours ago. She’s starting to succumb to sleep’s sweet embrace as well, and as the two of them drift off in each other’s arms, Enjolras inhales her scent, a little smile on his face at the feeling of Éponine’s fingers running tenderly through his hair. He lets out one last sigh of contentment before he falls asleep in her arms, her steady heartbeat lulling him to sleep.

Around five o’clock, Éponine wakes up, and the first thing she perceives is how she’s clearly in someone else’s bed—hell, the fact that she’s in a bed at all is enough to surprise her—with that someone else clearly sleeping naked beside her.

She turns her head to find Enjolras lying on his back beside her, soundly sleeping and snoring softly. She feels her lips form a smile at the sight of him peacefully sleeping, his bare chest rising and falling with gentle breaths, and his golden curls are all over the place, unruly against the soft pillows. She remembers the truly amazing sex they just had a mere couple of hours ago, and though this is usually the time she leaves and doesn’t look back, she feels oddly drawn to this handsome blond, wanting— _needing_ —to see him again.

Éponine quickly surveys her surroundings, her eyes darting about to steal glances around the room, and she soon locates a desk with a small notepad and a pen sitting on top of it. She stands up to make her way over to the desk, taking the pen in her hand and rapidly scribbling out something before ripping the sheet of paper off the notepad to place on the nightstand. After finding her clothes and putting them all back on, she sits at the edge of the bed, gazing at a sleeping Enjolras and just… _wondering_. After a while in which she just stares at his sleeping form, she leans down to press a tender kiss to his forehead before gathering her things and creeping out of his apartment.

When Enjolras finally wakes up, sunlight is already streaming in through cracks in the burgundy curtains, and he realises that he’s alone in his bed. Gone is the warmth Éponine had provided during their intimate time together, the only trace of her being the faint scent of cinnamon on the bedsheets, and in his half-asleep state of mind, he begins to wonder what he would do if it turns out to be just another one-night stand. She actually makes him _feel_ something, and he just feels different with her than he does with other people he’s slept with before, and it terrifies him, but he thinks he might be falling for her, and he’s consumed with a need to see her again and is terrified of what would happen if it turns out to be another meaningless hook-up.

Until he sees the sheet of paper on his nightstand.

Enjolras rolls over to grab the sheet of paper, reading whatever’s written on it and finding that it’s a phone number, with words written in slanted, rushed handwriting underneath, followed by a little winky face.

_Call me. Éponine ;)_

Enjolras places the paper back on his nightstand and struggles to contain his shout of pure, unadulterated delight, pumping a fist into the air in triumph.


	3. part iii

“Éponine Thénardier, do my eyes deceive me, or are those _multiple hickeys_ I see?!”

Grantaire positively _screeches_ when Éponine comes stumbling back into his apartment, in which she’s his illegal extra tenant, late in the morning with a loopy, secretive grin on her face. She seems to be walking a little funny too as she sits down on the futon on which she’s been sleeping on for the past few months, and she seems unable to wipe that gleeful grin off her face. Grantaire doesn’t remember much of last night, but one of the few things he _does_ remember is how Enjolras, the marble man, definitely showed interest in Éponine, who was _definitely_ interested in the blond as well, and Grantaire vaguely recalls how Enjolras stayed behind to talk to Éponine as the bar steadily emptied. Grantaire’s suspected, of course, and now Éponine’s basically confirmed that she had sex with Enjolras, what with the overly self-satisfied grin on her face and the numerous hickeys visible on her neck, not to mention her awkward gait, walking all funny like that. She merely scrunches up her face and smirks at Grantaire when he screeches again.

“You had sex last night,” Grantaire declares, walking over to her from the tiny kitchen to grab her wrist and pull her over to the futon she’s been sleeping on for the last few months.

“Did I?” Éponine quips, the grin on her face growing even wider. She can still feel Enjolras’s large hands firmly grasping her hips as he pounded into her, driving her into the bed and eliciting screams of pleasure from her.

“You have that ‘I just had fucking amazing sex last night’ grin on your face,” Grantaire points out, bouncing up and down in glee. “Tell me, just how good is Enjolras in bed?”

“I never said I had sex with Gabriel,” Éponine replies quickly, turning pink.

“Are you denying it, though?” When Éponine doesn’t reply, Grantaire smirks and laughs, leaning back and crossing his arms smugly across his chest. “See? You two totally boinked. Seriously, how good is he? I mean, you have _that_ grin on your face. He _must’ve_ been at least _somewhat_ good.”

Éponine sighs and glances out the window, looking down at the bustling streets below. Every detail from last night is now permanently etched into her mind—the feeling of his long fingers hooking and curling inside her, the sensations of his tongue lapping at her most sensitive spots as she whined and moaned underneath him, how he had kissed and sucked and bit at her neck as he pounded into her unrelentingly, hands grasping her hips hard enough to bruise… “Oh, he was _amazing_ ,” she whispers, her voice just barely audible.

Grantaire leans forward, gesturing for her to go on. “I want details! I mean, as many details as you’re comfortable sharing. I wouldn’t want you to feel all awkward around me because I was way into hearing about your sex life this one time.”

Éponine snorts, rolling her eyes. “No, it’s fine,” she assures him, patting his shoulder. “You’re my best friend, R, I’d tell you anything. Everything. I tell you everything, don’t I?”

“I could do without knowing that you fucked my sister, though,” Grantaire tells her. Of course he has to bring it up.

“Jesus Christ, it was one time!” Éponine whines, wondering the actual fuck he won’t just let her live it down. “It happened years ago! We were in college! Besides, your sister’s smoking hot—like, _banging_. Who wouldn’t want to tap that?”

“She’s my _sister_ , you fucking _weirdo_ ,” Grantaire reminds her once again, huffing. “My _sister_! You’re lucky you’re my best friend, otherwise I would’ve gone full big brother mode on you.”

“She’s, like, a year younger than you,” Éponine retorts. “No offence, R, but I’m pretty sure Rachelle is fully capable of fending for herself.”

“Do you know how fucking hard it was to look her in the eye for months after finding out you two had sex?” Grantaire continues to pester Éponine, still wounded about it five years later. Éponine playfully shoves him.

“Do you want to hear about me having sex with Gabriel or not?” she enquires, raising an eyebrow expectantly. Grantaire immediately shuts up, nodding his head vigorously and motioning for her to go on.

“Please,” he requests, flashing her a wide grin. Éponine rolls her eyes, chuckling to herself as she begins to tell her tale.

“He was… really nervous at first,” she recalls, remembering how the two of them just stood on his doorstep before she initiated their first kiss. “Rambling on and on about how it’s been a long time since the last time he had sex, so I just… kissed him, I guess.”

“Is he a good kisser?” Grantaire presses.

“Oh, damn, he’s fucking amazing,” Éponine replies, grinning. “How the fuck does he seem so perfect at everything he does?”

“He’s Gabriel Enjolras.” Grantaire shrugs. “It’ll forever remain a mystery to all of us.”

“So, anyway, I took off his shirt and, believe it or not, he has a fucking tattoo on his hip,” Éponine reveals, unable to keep herself from letting out a gleeful squeal. “He has the fucking Gryffindor crest tattooed on his hip.”

“Seriously?” Grantaire is unable to contain his snort, eventually dissolving into fits of hysterical laughter and doubling over, clutching his stomach. _Gabriel Enjolras_ has a fucking _Harry Potter tattoo_? Oh, God, this is some quality blackmail material right there. “If I wasn’t convinced you two are soulmates before, I sure am now.”

“Just because he and I are both Gryffindors doesn’t mean that he and I are _soulmates_ , my dear Raoul,” Éponine contradicts, smiling sweetly when Grantaire makes a face at the use of his first name.

“Please never call me that again,” Grantaire all but begs. Éponine will never understand why he hates his first name so much; she thinks it’s a nice name. “It makes me sound like the one-dimensional love interest it those shitty erotica novels you can get for fifty cents at the checkout counter in convenience stores.”

Never mind. There’s her answer.

“Stop adding stupid commentary to my story, then! Damn!” Éponine lets out a huff, feigning impatience and crossing her arms across her chest. “ _Anyway_ , as I was saying, he has this stupid adorable little tattoo on his hip, and he’s… seriously fucking ripped? He has six pack abs and everything, and he’s just…”

“A sex god,” Grantaire supplies, wiggling his eyebrows.

“My thoughts exactly,” Éponine agrees. “He’s really good with his fingers. And his tongue. He actually made me come, unlike… every other man I’ve ever slept with.”

“Were they all that bad?” Grantaire questions. “Are you sure Enj doesn’t just seem good by comparison?”

“Oh, no, some of them were good, they just didn’t actually make me orgasm,” Éponine amends. “Gabriel did. Multiple times.” She shivers at the memory of how he left her trembling and twitching after those several heavenly orgasms he had given her, longing for more of those best kind of orgasms. “Jesus, he was amazing.”

“What does his dick look like?” Grantaire has the audacity to ask, lips quirking into a smirk as Éponine immediately smacks his arm for even daring to ask such a question.

“We have to draw the line somewhere, R,” Éponine scolds, making a face.

“Well, was it big?” Grantaire presses, eyebrows wiggling suggestively as he leans in closer in his thirst for answers.

Éponine shoves him, a scandalised look on her face. “You’re disgusting!” What the fuck is it with cisgender men and their desperate need to compare dick sizes?

“Okay, fine, I’ll lay off the dick questions,” Grantaire relents, leaning back on the couch. “So what was it like? The sex, I mean? You’re glowing. I haven’t seen you look so relaxed in months.”

“Gee, thanks,” Éponine drawls, laughing to herself rather smugly. “He’s _fantastic_ at what he does, honestly. Great with his fingers, great with his tongue, great with his mouth…” She recalls the way she lost her mind when Enjolras ate her out, stars dancing behind her eyes and her hands grasping at the sheets for lack of a better grip as she screamed out his name. “It was pretty rough—I told him I liked it rough and so does he. Hands down the best sex of my entire fucking life.”

Grantaire’s mouth is slightly agape as he takes it all in, astonished by how Éponine managed to break through Enjolras’ walls so quickly. He whistles in amazement, running a hand through his wild black curls when Éponine decides to speak up again.

“I left him my number before I left this morning,” she confesses quietly, looking down in her lap with a little smile on her face. Grantaire’s eyes widen in shock at her words.

“Holy shit, did you really?” She tells him every single time she hooks up with someone, and not once has she ever left her number after a one-night stand—until now. It looks like this so-called one-night stand is not going to remain a one-night stand for much longer.

Éponine nods, laughing rather giddily to herself. “I just… he got to me, all right? I want to see him again.”

It feels weird to admit it out loud—she really does want to see Enjolras again. She _needs_ to see him again.

Just then she feels her phone buzzing in her pocket, causing her to whip it out a bit too eagerly as Grantaire watches her intently, smirking knowingly to himself when her face lights up. It’s adorable how transparent Éponine can be sometimes.

**unknown number: Thank you so much for last night. If I’m being honest here, it might have been the best night of my life. May I see you again sometime?**

Éponine grins to herself and quickly changes the contact name before showing Grantaire the text, chortling. “Look at how he texts,” she laughs, although not in a mocking manner. She’s simply amused by the way Enjolras texts, much like an old person would.

Grantaire doubles over with laughter, giving Éponine just enough time to text Enjolras back.

**me: sure, i’d love to see you again! want to hang out at the bar again tonight? drinks are on me**

**pretty boy: That would be great, thank you. I’m looking forward to seeing you again :)**

Éponine furrows her brow, trying to figure out what the smiley face means before she realises that she’s probably reading into it too much and should just let things flow at their own pace. Her eyes widen as she comes to the realisation that she hasn’t read into something this much in a long time, not since she ended her last long-term relationship with her ex-girlfriend two years ago, and despite how much she wants to run and hide and cancel all her plans with Enjolras, she somehow convinces herself that this could very well turn out to be a good thing, even if she’s very much against the idea of a serious relationship. He’s perfect in every way—a gentleman, super fucking hot and somehow adorable at the same time, and a sex god. In spite of what her mind is telling her, Éponine’s heart tells her to go with it, telling her that this is a good thing.

Please let it be a good thing.

* * *

Éponine’s behind the counter once again, humming softly to herself with a secretive little smile on her face as she goes about drying empty glasses and thinking about the past two weeks. She and Enjolras have been taking frequent trips to pound town for quite a while now except for the few days during which she was on her period, always going back to his place to have sex since he isn’t burdened with the tragedy that is having shitty roommates—or any roommates at all, really—and even though her mind is repeatedly telling her no, she can’t help but constantly think about whether or not things between them would ever get more serious. After allowing that thought to cross her mind for a fleeting moment, she refuses to think about it any longer, firmly telling herself that they’re just casual fuckbuddies, and she’s perfectly fine with it. Besides, Éponine and relationships? They just don’t mix. It’s a horrible combination. A terrible idea. Just thinking about it stresses her out. Lost in her thoughts, she doesn’t notice how Enjolras sits down at the bar until he clears his throat, making her jump.

“Oh, Gabriel!” Éponine groans inwardly at how overly eager she sounds, wondering why the hell she’s so pumped up over this. She’s had plenty of casual flings before this. Granted, they were all strictly one-night stands and thus had never been this prolonged, but still—she shouldn’t be acting like an overexcited college girl over the fact that Enjolras is actually willing to have sex with her more than once. “What’s up?”

“Hey, ’Ponine.” Enjolras feels his heart skip a beat as he gazes into her eyes with a soft little smile on his face, wondering what on earth’s gotten into him. He’s being such a fucking sap. He can almost hear Grantaire whisper-shouting “That’s so fucking gross!” in his ear. He picks up on how her cheeks flush the faintest shade of pink at his little nickname for her, unable to resist grinning even more at how his simple nickname for her can make her blush like that. “So I’ve been thinking about… us,” he finally says, trying and failing to keep the hesitation out of his voice. He’s oblivious to how Éponine visibly perks up at his words, straightening up as she places a glass neatly on the counter. “Do you—” Enjolras gulps, nerves beginning to take over him as Éponine raises her eyebrows expectantly. “Do you—if you want to, of course—do you want to go out on a—on a date sometime? An actual date? Together?” he finally manages to stutter out, cheeks flaming scarlet as he finally catches his breath.

Éponine’s dark eyes widen at his words, only now coming to terms with how she’s actually been _expecting_ this to happen over the course of the past few days before she scolds herself for being so silly. She shouldn’t be genuinely expecting anything from him in the first place, since she doesn’t know what he considers their odd little… _arrangement_ to be. They’re friends, sure, but she’s still doubtful.

Enjolras seems to take her silence as a no, looking visibly disheartened as he mumbles, “Well, I just—I thought—it’s fine if you don’t want to—”

“No, I do!” Éponine interrupts hastily, not wanting him to misinterpret her silence. “I really do, Gabriel.”

Enjolras can’t keep the wide grin from bursting across his face at her words—he always tends to be so damn obvious when he’s into someone, it annoys him. “Okay, then. What do you want to do?”

Éponine leans against the counter, a little smile on her face as she suggests, “Why don’t we tour the city together? Get some pizza, maybe go to Navy Pier?”

Enjolras nods a bit too eagerly for his own liking at her suggestion, still grinning like a moron at how she said yes to him asking her out. “Yes, I would love that.”

Éponine flashes him a little smile bordering on a smirk, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then!”

That’s how she finds herself knocking on Enjolras’ door late on Saturday morning, nervous out of her mind as she constantly shifts from one foot to the other while waiting for him to open the door. Her leather jacket is unzipped, a maroon tank top that she made sure offered a nice full view of her cleavage just to see how Enjolras is going to react to it underneath her jacket, and she’s wearing her usual black ripped jeans and ratty black Chucks. Earlier, she had stressed over what to wear for her first date with Enjolras before Grantaire told her to wear what she usually wore, claiming that the golden-haired marble man would still be head over heels for her even if she was wearing a trash bag. She highly doubts that, but the thought of the possibility of Enjolras liking her like that makes her feel butterflies in her stomach.

_Shut the fuck up,_ she scolds herself. He deserves so much better than a girl of the streets like her. Back during their first night together, she made one rule and she’s determined to stick with it—no matter what, she is not going to fall for Gabriel Enjolras.

Éponine nearly jumps out of her skin when Enjolras opens the door, snapping her out of her thoughts. He’s dressed casually as well, wearing a pair of khakis, a scarlet plaid shirt—Éponine doesn’t fail to appreciatively note how he’s left the top three buttons of his shirt undone, allowing her the slightest glimpse of a tiny bit of chest hair—and a pair of red Converse sneakers. She notices how the sleeves are rolled up to his elbows— _fuck_ , it’s sexy when a guy does that with a long-sleeved shirt. Éponine wonders how he manages to keep his golden curls looking like that, always so immaculate yet somehow tastefully tousled at the same time. His blue eyes light up at the sight of her standing there, a faint pink blush rising to his cheeks as he steps out onto the welcome mat to join Éponine. Try as she might, she can’t help but shyly smile up at him.

“Where to?” Enjolras asks after a few stretches of awkward silence. Éponine shrugs.

“Want to go get some pizza?” she suggests. “Maybe we could go on a boat ride or something. I’m not picky.”

“Pizza sounds great,” he agrees, still awkward as ever. It’s been a long time since he’s been on an actual date, and he feels completely out of touch. “Are you still up for going to Navy Pier?”

Éponine nods. “Sure, why not?”

After standing there frozen on the doormat for several more awkward moments, Éponine tentatively reaches for Enjolras’ hand. He startles slightly at the feeling of her small hand sliding into his large one, not noticing how Éponine seems to be holding her breath in anticipation, and he doesn’t let go, instead lacing their fingers together and giving her hand an uncertain squeeze. Immediately, a dimpled smile stretches across Éponine’s face and Enjolras feels himself blush, murmuring, “Shall we go?”

Éponine smiles at him, feeling her cheeks flush the faintest shade of pink. “Let’s go get ourselves some pizza, then!”

By the time they’re sitting in Giordano’s Pizzeria snarfing down pizza peppered with Italian sausage and pepperoni, the tension between them has melted completely and they’re sharing laughs and secrets over a large deep-dish pizza in a dimly lit booth in a corner of the restaurant, stuffing themselves with pizza and downing it all with Mountain Dew. It’s a nice change from the drinks they typically share at the bar, although Éponine declares that they’ll be getting at least partially tipsy later that day if she has anything to do with it.

“So how have things been in your life?” she questions while taking a large bite out of her third slice of pizza, raising an eyebrow as Enjolras takes a sip of his Mountain Dew. “Thanks for getting me that job interview at your newspaper, by the way.”

“It’s not _my_ newspaper,” Enjolras reminds her, turning pink. “I just work there. When is your interview?”

“In a couple of weeks,” Éponine replies. “Let’s hope I don’t fuck it up.”

Enjolras reaches over to place his free hand on top of hers on the table, and Éponine gives a tiny smile at the simple gesture. “You won’t.”

She feels herself blush and that’s when she stops herself. This is simply an arrangement based on mutual surface attraction and it’s convenient; she refuses to let herself fall in love with this pretty boy sex god, refusing to let herself get hurt again by getting too emotionally entangled with him. She’s convinced herself that she’s only in this for his friendship and a good hard fuck every now and then. Can’t possibly be that hard.

“How are things with your family?” Éponine asks, changing the subject. “Do you have any siblings?”

Enjolras shakes his head. “No, only child. My parents are doing okay. They live in Buffalo Grove with our Australian shepherd. You?”

“I’m not in touch with my parents anymore,” Éponine replies, giving him a look that seems like a cross between a smile and a grimace. “Lord knows where they are now. Probably rotting away in a jail cell. That would serve them right. I have two siblings. Technically I have four, but my parents sold my two youngest brothers when I was eight. I don’t even remember their names.”

Enjolras tries not to let the shock show on his face, disturbed by how Éponine’s parents could be so callous as he takes a bite out of his slice of pizza. He attempts to steer the conversation in a different direction, asking, “What about your other two siblings?”

“Oh, them!” Éponine laughs, taking a gulp of her Mountain Dew. “Azelma and Gavroche. Azelma’s twenty-three, Gavroche is nineteen. Zel’s studying to be a nurse practitioner and Gav’s in his freshman year of college; he’s majoring in video game design. They’d definitely like you; they’re both living on campus so I don’t get to see them often, but when I do, it’s all great. Nothing like absence to make the heart grow fonder, right?”

“Right.” Enjolras takes another sip of his Mountain Dew, his hand still on top of Éponine’s. The two of them have nearly finished their pizza and he wonders where he’s going to take her after this. The Shedd Aquarium, perhaps? She seems like the type of person who would enjoy going to see marine animals in aquariums, so he figures he’ll give it a shot.

Once they’ve finished their pizza and Mountain Dew and paid the bill, the two of them stand up in tandem and Enjolras tentatively takes her hand, unable to keep himself from grinning broadly when Éponine laces her fingers through his and gives his hand a squeeze. “Where to?” she asks.

“What about the Shedd Aquarium?” Enjolras suggests.

Éponine’s entire face lights up with a dimpled smile at the prospect of going to go to the aquarium on a first date and she nods vigorously. “Yeah! Yeah, I’d love to! I love aquariums!”

Enjolras’ grin grows even wider before he can stop himself at her enthusiasm. She’s just so cute, with the dimples in her cheeks whenever she smiles that gorgeous smile of hers and her sparkling brown eyes, and he can’t stop thinking about how nice she looks when she lets her locks of deep brown tumble down her back, though she also looks really fucking great when her hair is up in a high ponytail, and her husky laugh is like music to his ears, her voice lovely and her sentences lyrical, and _fuck_ , he’s definitely falling for her. Fuck.

Well, things can’t possibly go wrong, right?


	4. part iv

Once they’ve reached the aquarium, Éponine promptly ignores him and goes to press her face against the glass, watching the fish swim past with a giant smile, childlike wonder written all over her face. Surprisingly enough, Enjolras finds that he doesn’t mind—watching her have fun as they go through the tunnels and listening to her “ooooh’s” of wonder as sharks swim above her head is more than enough for him as they walk through the aquarium exhibits together mostly in comfortable silence, enjoying the exhibits as well as the feel of her hand in his, their fingers tightly interlocked. _It’s friendly,_ Éponine convinces herself as they near the end of the last few exhibits they still have yet to see before it’s off to Navy Pier they go. Or not.

After two hours of Éponine blatantly ignoring Enjolras in favour of looking at the fish and Enjolras just trailing behind her the entire time watching her look at the fish in delight, they’ve come to the end of their aquarium excursion, and they stand outside in the bright afternoon sunlight, debating between going to the bar or going to Navy Pier.

“It’s so crowded with tourists,” Éponine points out petulantly when Enjolras insists on going to Navy Pier.

“Yes, but we go to the bar every other day,” Enjolras argues in reply. “Don’t you want our first date to be something special?”

A furious blush finds its way onto Éponine’s cheeks at his words. Does he really think that much of this date? She has to admit that she’s flattered, a strange, foreign feeling she can’t quite name making her heart rate increase at how much this date seems to mean to him. Even still, she’s adamant about not falling in love with him, not wanting to get screwed over the way she had been by her last three long-term relationships. Sometimes she wonders if it’s normal to be feeling this way, to be this terrified of emotional entanglement, wondering if she should go see someone about it, but she knows a decent amount of people who feel the same way, so it’s all good, right?

Realising she’s stayed silent for far too long, Éponine quickly relents, saying, “Okay, fine, let’s go to Navy Pier. Are we going to grab dinner afterwards or will we go straight back to your place?”

“Let’s grab dinner first,” Enjolras suggests, giving her hand a squeeze and making butterflies erupt in her stomach, much to her chagrin. “After going to the pier?”

Éponine gives him a smile. “Why not?”

Navy Pier, as Éponine predicted, is bustling with tourists, leading to her hugging Enjolras’ arm as they navigate the crowds together. As they approach the swing ride—Éponine’s always loved swing rides—she confesses, “I’ve never actually been to Navy Pier, you know.”

Enjolras stops in his tracks, causing Éponine to stop as well. “You haven’t?” She looks up upon hearing the surprise in his voice, her eyebrows knit.

“Nope.” Éponine pops the ‘p’ in the word, having become aware of how she’s practically clinging to Enjolras, hugging his arm like this. Even as she comes to that uncomfortable realisation, she refuses to detach herself from him for fear of getting swallowed by the outrageous crowds. “Is it really that surprising?” she asks, laughing slightly.

Enjolras contemplates it for a while. “No, I suppose it isn’t. Swing ride?”

The afternoon passes by as Enjolras seems to make it his responsibility to make sure Éponine enjoys herself as much as possible, and they end up eating dinner at Bubba Gump at sunset before he takes her onto the Ferris wheel once night has completely fallen, the Chicago skyline lighting up the darkened skies. He somehow manages to secure a cabin just for the two of them despite the crowds; it’s large enough to seat six people and Éponine can’t imagine how Enjolras managed to snag this whole cabin for themselves. She’s not going to complain—it gives her time alone with Enjolras, and despite how she’s got a bit of a problem, what with her aversion to getting emotionally involved, she does like getting to know him better with their time alone as they sit in the cabin side by side, watching the people below shrink as they climb higher and higher.

“I’m a bit afraid of heights,” Enjolras confides quietly once the cabin doors slide shut and they’re left alone together, the Ferris wheel slowly, slowly rotating. “My parents took me to the Grand Canyon when I was four; they told me I started crying and holding on to my mother when we got closer to the edge.”

“Why’d you want to go on the Ferris wheel, then?” Éponine asks, curious. She wouldn’t have pegged him as the type to be afraid of heights.

Enjolras shrugs. “I thought you might have liked it.”

Éponine, out of impulse, presses a kiss to his cheek, not noticing how his cheeks flush red due to her mentally scolding herself for doing that. “I do. I really do.”

Enjolras turns his head to look at her, a little smile on his face. He’s truly fucked.

“How will we be getting back to your place?” Éponine asks softly as she lays her head on his shoulder, her hand sliding into his.

“I’ll get us a cab,” Enjolras replies. “I’ve got it all under control.”

Éponine looks up at him and smiles, reaching up with her free hand to run her thumb along his jawline before her other hand lets go of his, bringing her hands up to cradle his face. “Thank you,” she murmurs, her eyes flicking to his lips every now and then before she forces herself to look back into his eyes. Mustn’t let her horniness get the better of her just yet.

Enjolras smiles. “What for?”

Éponine rolls her eyes and lets out a breathy laugh. “Everything. It’s been a great date, Gabriel. I really loved it.”

She feels one of his hands resting against her thigh, shivering in anticipation at the feeling, and that’s when she leans in and closes the gap between them, her lips meeting his in a tender kiss. Her arms slide up around his neck as he pulls her closer to him, kissing her back equally as eagerly, and she lets out a quiet moan when she feels him suck her bottom lip into his mouth, nibbling at it softly. She can feel her heart pounding in her chest as he pulls her into his lap, letting her straddle him as she kisses him harder, moaning when his tongue traces over her bottom lip and she opens her mouth to allow him entry, tilting her head and tangling her fingers in his curls. The innocence of the kiss is soon lost as he lets out a low, throaty growl into her mouth at the feeling of the crotch of his pants tightening considerably, kissing her hard and making her moan against his lips. The warmth of his body ignites a fire within her as she runs her fingers through his hair while he kisses her with a desperate sort of passion before they break apart for air.

“Wow,” Éponine murmurs, biting down on her lip. His breath tastes like shrimp. Surprisingly, it’s a welcoming taste.

“Yeah,” Enjolras breathes out, trying hard not to grimace at how he’s definitely growing harder by the moment, what with Éponine perched in his lap like this. “Wow.”

They don’t pay attention to the sights outside for the rest of the Ferris wheel ride.

* * *

It’s nearing eleven o’clock when Enjolras manages to hail a cab for them, the two of them stumbling into the backseat together and laughing about something stupid Éponine’s just said. The driver asks them where to; Enjolras quickly replies with his apartment address before telling the driver to turn up the radio mere seconds before Éponine brings him closer to her and presses her lips to his in a passionate kiss, making him forget about everything around him as he kisses her right back, a strangled groan escaping the back of his throat as he runs his hand up her spine, feeling her shiver in his arms. He can’t help but grin at how she has goosebumps along her skin when he places a hand against the back of her neck, his tongue entwining with hers in their mouths as soft moans fall from her lips.

He hopes they’re not being too much of a bother to the cab driver.

Once they’re dropped off on the pavement below Enjolras’ apartment, they waste no time in going inside and going up to his place, barely managing to keep their hands off of each other long enough for him to unlock the door. They nearly fall in, Enjolras managing to catch Éponine in record time, and he locks the door behind them as she kicks her shoes off and throws off her leather jacket before jumping up on top of him and kissing him hard, fingers tangled in his hair. Enjolras barely manages to get his shoes off as he kisses her back, trying his best not to fall backwards from the weight of her wrapped around him.

Soon enough, Éponine climbs down, their lips never really parting as they start to stumble blindly to his bedroom, hands roaming everywhere and making Enjolras unable to think straight. Her giggles are like music to his ears, her tousled hair tumbling wildly down her shoulders, and before he knows it, they’re both falling into his bed and she’s on top of him, kissing him madly, desperately, moans vibrating from the back of her throat as her tongue traces his teeth. His hand slides up her tank top, tracing the curve of her spine and making her shiver in delight at his touch, kissing him harder still and making him groan at how the crotch of his pants tighten to an almost painful extent at the feeling of Éponine rubbing up against him. She impatiently undoes the buttons of his shirt, all but ripping it off once she manages to do so, and she pulls her tank top over her head to reveal a lacy crimson bra that she knows he goes crazy for, and he gulps as she leans down and captures his lips in a kiss once again, furious and passionate.

When they break apart, the both of them panting heavily, Éponine asks breathlessly, “Can I tie you up?”

Enjolras doesn’t hesitate—he nods almost immediately, recalling how they’ve done this a couple of times before. It was amazing each time and he finds that he likes being the one tied up for once, and he watches as Éponine gives him a wicked grin and slides off the bed to rummage about in his closet for a tie to use as a makeshift rope, returning soon with one of his favourite ties. He’s soon tied to the headboard, his hands above his head, and he’s lying back as Éponine pulls her jeans off, tossing it to the side and giving him a nice full view of her in nothing but her lacy red bra and matching panties as all the blood in his head goes south.

“Is that a banana in your pants or are you just happy to see me?” Éponine teases, her voice low and sultry as she zeroes in on the tent he’s pitching, a smirk playing at her lips. Enjolras rolls his eyes at the cheesy quote, although he certainly likes what he sees, lustful blue eyes raking over her underwear-clad figure.

Éponine slowly crawls up to him, playing with his belt and asking softly, “May I?”

Enjolras nods in assent, watching as she undoes his belt and takes off his khakis tantalisingly slowly, seeming to savour every moment as she listens to his heavy breathing. She eyes his arousal through his boxers with interest, wondering just how much of an effect she has on him as she slowly takes off her bra, tossing it out of sight. She can’t help but smirk when Enjolras inhales sharply at the sight of her, moving to straddle him and rubbing her crotch against his hard-on, the only barriers between them being the thin fabric of her lacy panties and his boxer shorts. Enjolras’ head falls back at the feeling of her teasing him relentlessly, her moans and mewls almost too much to bear and the feeling of her grinding against him nearly making him lose control.

Éponine doesn’t shy away from moaning and sighing as she grinds against him at a slow, steady pace, feeling heat gather between her legs and her panties grow wet from a sheer need to be thoroughly fucked, reaching down to stick her hand down the front of her panties and rub her clit as she grinds against Enjolras’ cock through his boxers at a hypnotisingly slow pace, watching him as he visibly tries not to lose it at the feeling of her grinding against him so deliberately and the sight of her pleasuring herself while she does so, trying to relieve the ache between her legs, moaning and sighing.

Éponine soon takes her panties off, leaving her completely naked, and she crawls up to position herself over Enjolras’ face, questioning, “Is this okay?”

Enjolras nods wordlessly, sighing as he catches a whiff of her while she lowers herself onto his face, firmly grasping the headboard. He sticks his tongue out and runs it up her slit, listening to how she lets out a loud moan at the feeling, and she lowers herself further down, his tongue beginning to generously lap at her as she trembles from the feeling, moaning his name and spurring him on. She lowers herself even further onto his face so she’d be sitting on his face and that’s when he clamps his mouth over her clit, eliciting a pleasured squeal of surprise from her as he begins to lightly suck, sucking at her clit and feeling a desperate need for release at the sound of her moaning and squealing his name while he sucks on her clit.

“Gabriel!” she squeals, beginning to grind against his face as he licks and sucks at her clit and mewling loudly at the feeling of his tongue flicking at and swirling around her clit. She slowly grinds against him while he licks at her, pleasuring her most sensitive spots and making her shudder as he moans and growls against her clit, sending her closer to the edge. Éponine looks down at Enjolras while rhythmically rocking her hips against his face, transfixed by how he’s gazing up at her with a strange look she can’t quite describe while fucking her so thoroughly with his mouth, licking and sucking at her clit and sending fire shooting through her body as she throws her head back and lets out a scream of his name when he sucks insistently at her, lapping up her juices just as she sees stars dance behind her eyes as she comes _hard_ , shuddering and writhing from the sheer force of her orgasm while Enjolras laps it all up, a pleased grin on his face.

Éponine, still coming down from her high, crawls off his face, breathing heavily as her brown eyes find his blue. “Fuck…” she murmurs, breathless. “What the hell was that, Gabriel?”

Enjolras simply smiles at her in response, licking his lips and gazing at the fire in Éponine’s eyes as she moves down, trailing kisses down his bare chest and stomach as he moans out her name, his head falling back against the pillows and hands struggling slightly against their bonds. Éponine smiles as she presses kisses all over his abs, moving further down and stopping just at his hip bone once she presses a tender kiss to the tattoo on his hip, looking up with a devilish smirk on her face as her fingers toy with the waistband of his boxers. Enjolras gulps.

He’s in trouble.

Without further ado, Éponine pulls his boxers off in one single movement, throwing them off the bed and leaving him naked as she lecherously eyes his manhood, grinning that wicked grin Enjolras realises he’s falling hard and fast for. She reaches out and strokes his erection, evoking a low groan from him and making her giggle at how sensitive he is. She settles between his legs and leans down, licking the precum off the slit and absolutely delighting in how he shudders at that, aching for release. She runs her tongue along his shaft, revelling in how he holds his breath in anticipation, and her small hand wraps itself around the base of his cock, beginning to gently pull and squeeze as strangled moans fall from his lips.

“’Ponine,” Enjolras whispers hoarsely, barely able to contain himself. “Éponine, please…”

“Hmmmmm?” Éponine hums in response, looking up at him while still slowly, ruthlessly teasing him, stroking his balls with one hand and gently squeezing and pulling at his shaft with the other. Enjolras’ head falls back against the pillows as he moans, fighting against his bonds and failing miserably in freeing his hands, leaving him there to pant, all tied up, breathing heavily and completely helpless.

Éponine’s eyes find his and he damn near loses it at the sultry, half-lidded look in her eyes, his throat going dry as he swallows. Éponine smiles at him, biting her bottom lip, and asks breathily, “What do you want me to do, pretty boy?”

“Just—please—” Enjolras struggles for words, red-faced and panting at the feeling of her gently stroking his manhood. “’Ponine—”

“Use your words, Gabriel,” Éponine purrs, that infuriating wicked grin appearing on her face yet again as Enjolras lets out a throaty moan.

“Éponine,” Enjolras breathes, closing his eyes and breathing heavily. “ _Please._ ”

“Oh, are you begging now?” Éponine’s absolutely delighted at the sound of that, continuing to stroke and pull at his cock while still keeping her gaze fixed on his face. “I like it. Do it again.”

Enjolras opens his eyes, glaring at her just slightly through his darkened blue eyes. “You’re cruel.”

Éponine hums as she continued to stroke and squeeze and pull, looking as if she’s having the absolute time of her life. “So I’ve been told.”

“Just—damn it, ’Ponine, _please_ ,” Enjolras begs, his whole body aching for release. “ _Please_ , Éponine…”

She leans down and presses a kiss to the tip of his shaft, watching as his eyes roll back in his head and he shudders at the feeling, and that’s when she finally takes him into her mouth, her lips wrapped around his cock as she takes all of him into her mouth, humming softly as she listens to his strangled moans. She looks up at him with an innocent look in her eyes to see him red-faced and breathing erratically as she strokes his balls, watching him intently.

“Fuck, Éponine…” Enjolras’ head falls back against the pillows once again at the feeling of her plump lips wrapped around the base of his cock, her tongue swirling around the head and her hands on his balls. A wandering thought about when her gag reflexes last worked crosses his mind for a fleeting moment until she begins to moan, the vibrations in her throat making him go insane as he forgets everything else, focusing only on how she’s humming and moaning and how her throat occasionally contracts around his cock, making him lose his mind.

“’Ponine, please,” Enjolras moans, his hips bucking up involuntarily before she forces him down again, still humming from deep in her throat and lightly scraping her teeth against his shaft. She gazes up at him while she does so, smirking at how his face is flushed red and his golden curls are in disarray, some plastered to his forehead with sweat, as he looks down at her through desperate blue eyes, clearly begging for release. Still keeping her eyes on his, she reaches down with one hand to slip two fingers into her core, moaning loudly and making him shudder as she begins to pleasure herself, imagining it’s him pleasuring her. He watches her intently as she hums and moans while working two fingers between her thighs as she sucks on his cock, her tongue tracing circles into his shaft, and Enjolras struggles slightly against his bonds, wishing he could reach down and tangle his fingers in her hair.

Éponine reaches with her free hand to squeeze his ass, delighting in how nice and firm it feels as she sucks on his cock, his strangled groans and moans of her name and something that sounds very much like the word ‘please’ sounding like music to her ears. She lets out a loud moan, continuing to finger herself and squealing slightly as she rubs circles into her clit and trails her tongue along his shaft, sliding his cock in and out of her throat as she bobs her head between his legs, listening to his ragged breaths and strangled moans. Enjolras struggles even more against his constraints, his hips jerking up once more at the tight, wet heat around his cock, the vibrations in her throat from her hums and moans driving him absolutely mad as he watches her slurping up whatever mess he’s leaving in her mouth as she fingers herself, and _God_ , the sight of her pleasuring herself as she effortlessly sucks him off is honestly the sexiest thing he’s ever seen, her face flushed as she deep-throats him without a hitch.

Éponine’s dark eyes are on fire, her lips swollen as her tongue languidly trails up and down his shaft while she hums from deep in her throat, and Enjolras cannot believe how incredibly skilled she is at this, hissing at the feeling of her teeth lightly, lightly scraping against his shaft once again. He longs to slide his hands into her hair, and the building pressure in his cock is _killing_ him. Her eyes are still fixed on him, watching as he moans loudly at the feeling of her plump lips wrapped around the base of his cock, hands above his head and still firmly tied to the headboard, and when he glances down, finding that she’s watching him intently with an absolutely _vulgar_ look in her eyes, he knows he’s on the verge of bursting.

“Éponine,  _please_ …”

She pulls her fingers out of herself and returns to stroking his balls with both hands as his breathing grows heavy and erratic, the pressure to release growing out of control, his eyes on hers, and in a fleeting moment, he thinks about how strangely intimate it is to be holding eye contact like this as she confidently sucks him off, wondering if he’s imagining that strange, oddly tender look amid the vulgarity in her eyes or if it’s really there. His thigh muscles tighten as he lets out a groan, barely managing to keep himself from shooting his load in her mouth right then and there, and he sees fire flash in Éponine’s eyes.

She sees the look on his face and nods slightly, giving him a naughty smirk.

Enjolras is certain his mind snaps after that.

His head falls back against the pillows as he comes with a strangled growl, wave after wave of fire passing violently through his body, his hips jerking up as he bursts in her mouth. Éponine swallows it all, moaning contentedly at the feeling of Enjolras’ hot cum trickling down her throat as he shudders against the sheets, waves of pleasure washing over him at the feeling of Éponine lazily lapping up the mess he’s leaving in her mouth as he moans out her name, his eyes rolling back in his head at the heavenly feeling. His hands strain against their bonds as Éponine swallows everything, her cheeks hollow, before she detaches herself from him with a crude pop, thoroughly pleased by her work.

“Did you like that?” she whispers, her voice low and husky as she crawls up to undo the makeshift rope she’s made out of Enjolras’ tie. He nods breathlessly, red in the face as his eyes rake over her while she’s undoing the tie, unable to keep himself from smirking slightly when he spots a bit of his cum dripping down her chin. Noticing how he’s staring, Éponine keeps her eyes fixed on his as she slowly, enticingly wipes his cum off her chin, licking it off her hand before she leans down to kiss him, moaning softly against his lips as the tie comes off as if of its own accord and he brings his hands to her back, tracing the curve of her spine with one hand as he keeps the other hand firmly pressed against the back of her neck.

She lets out a low moan when his tongue glides into her mouth, tracing over her teeth and sending shivers down her spine, with the way his hand is trailing up her back right now as he kisses her fervently, making something flutter in her chest. She presses a hand to his bare chest, vaguely feeling how fast his heart is beating and shivering slightly at the feeling of his large hand moving up into her hair, cradling the back of her head and bringing her face closer to his. He can taste himself on her lips.

When they break apart, Éponine collapses beside him with a sigh and moves to lay her head on his chest, absently tracing his abs with her hand as he puts an arm around her. “Fuck, ’Ponine, that was… Wow.” Enjolras sighs in contentment, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. Éponine smiles to herself, glad for the darkness for hiding her blush as she snuggles up to him, draping an arm across his torso as she listens to his heartbeat and traces his six pack inattentively, exhausted from the events of that day—and that night.

Éponine lets out a barely audible, exhilarated sigh, feeling herself beginning to drift off as she presses a kiss to Enjolras’ chest. “You’re incredible,” she murmurs softly, her eyelids growing heavier by the moment as she struggles to stay awake.

“You smell like cinnamon,” Enjolras mumbles, his eyelids drooping as sleep threatens to overtake him. Éponine chuckles.

“I always do,” she whispers lightly before she closes her eyes, her mind beginning to wander. She wouldn’t mind falling asleep in his arms like this every night.

She stops herself. She refuses to let herself fall in love with Gabriel Enjolras. It won’t happen.

“Good night, Gabriel,” Éponine whispers before beginning to doze off as Enjolras traces circles into her back, his chest rising and falling steadily as he feels his heart beat faster as Éponine falls asleep on his chest. He gazes down at her, watching her long lashes flutter every now and then as her breathing begins to match his, a little smile of contentment on her face, and his breath hitches in his throat.

He is so fucked.

Enjolras presses a kiss to the top of her head, his hand moving to stroke her hair tenderly as he murmurs, “Good night, ’Ponine.”


	5. part v

“So what’s this I hear about you and a certain Miss Éponine?”

Enjolras groans and ignores Courfeyrac’s question as he takes a sip of his cappuccino, making a slight face when it burns the roof of his mouth. It’s late in the morning and the two of them are waiting for Combeferre to make an appearance at the Starbucks they’re currently in, sitting in a well-lit corner and taking advantage of the free WiFi. It’s been a couple of days since Enjolras’ first date with Éponine, and though they haven’t seen each other since, they’ve been texting back and forth, and Courfeyrac is dying to know what’s really going on between the two of them.

“It’s nothing serious yet, Courf, will you please drop it?” Enjolras feels his phone buzz in his pocket and pulls it out, not quite realising how he smiles upon seeing that it’s another text from Éponine. Courfeyrac, immediately noticing the little smile on Enjolras’ face, takes that as his cue to pounce.

“Ah! You said ‘yet’,” Courfeyrac points out gleefully as Enjolras looks up from his phone. “It’s nothing serious _yet_. You’re expecting something to happen, aren’t you?”

“I’m not ‘expecting’ anything,” Enjolras stoutly denies, feeling his cheeks flush pink at his poor wording. “We’re just friends, Courf.”

“And fuckbuddies,” Courfeyrac supplies, an infuriating grin on his face and a sparkle in his dark eyes.

“That too,” Enjolras mutters, feeling himself blush even harder at the reminder. “The point is, it’s completely casual and I don’t want to pressure her into giving more than what she initially offered. It’s a new trend called respect, have you ever heard of it?”

Courfeyrac scoffs, letting out a cough that sounds suspiciously like “Smartass.” Enjolras rolls his eyes and takes another sip of his cappuccino as he turns his attention back to his phone, reading Éponine’s text and feeling his heart leap in his chest.

**Éponine: hey, it’s me again! do you want to hang out sometime tonight? there’s this all you can eat buffet we can go to, it’s gr8. i think you might like it**

“What are you smiling at?” Enjolras looks up to see that Combeferre has arrived, sliding into the seat beside Courfeyrac with a muffin and a skinny mocha in hand, curiosity written all over his face.

“His _girlfriend_ ,” Courfeyrac singsongs, drawing out the word ‘girlfriend’ and cackling at how Enjolras’ cheeks immediately flame red.

“For the last goddamn time, Courfeyrac, she is not my girlfriend,” Enjolras corrects him in exasperation, his cheeks still flushed scarlet as he looks back down at his phone, typing out a response.

**me: I would love to. When should we meet up?**

“Oh, sorry,” Courfeyrac says sarcastically, turning to Combeferre. “His _paramour_.”

Combeferre seems more surprised at the fact that Courfeyrac even knows that word and its meaning than the fact that Enjolras is allegedly screwing someone, taking some time to take it in before he turns back to Enjolras and asks, “Who’s this mystery girl Courfeyrac’s talking about?” He cranes his neck to try to see what’s on Enjolras’ phone screen. “Are you texting her?”

Enjolras doesn’t reply, narrowing his eyes at the two of them as he brings his cappuccino to his lips and takes a sip, not realising that it leaves a foam moustache on his upper lip until Courfeyrac giggles and points it out to him. Managing to remain completely unfazed—or at least look the part—Enjolras wipes it away with the sleeve of his shirt, his eyes trailing back to his phone as another text from Éponine comes in.

**Éponine: when are you free? i have the day off so i’m up for whenever**

“Enjolras!” Courfeyrac barks out, making him jump. He looks back up at Courfeyrac and Combeferre, raising his eyebrows expectantly. “Aren’t you going to tell ’Ferre what’s been going on in your life?”

Enjolras sighs, relenting. “There’s this girl I’m seeing. It’s nothing serious, we’re just friends as of right now.”

“You forgot to mention how you’re fucking her on a pretty regular basis,” Courfeyrac chimes in obnoxiously, earning himself a glare from Enjolras. Combeferre raises his eyebrows at this, surprised to find that he was indeed correct in his suspicions. “It’s Éponine, he’s fucking Éponine.”

“ _Éponine?_ ” Combeferre lets out a low whistle, rather impressed that Enjolras has managed to keep her sticking around for this long. She’s never been the type of girl to hold on to a single fling for too long, always on the prowl for more one-night stands before losing all contact with them, the unlucky few who get to sleep with her, disappearing from their lives once morning comes and leaving nothing more than a memory. He suspects that she considers this thing with Enjolras to be more than just another fling, with the implication that it’s been going on for some time now.

“You know her?” Enjolras asks, incredulous. Is his life one big walking cliché? Of _course_ Combeferre knows Éponine.

“Yeah, I know her,” Combeferre confirms, taking a sip of his drink. “How long have you two been seeing each other?”

Enjolras is just about to rudely snap “Why do you care?” when he sees the look of genuine curiosity and intrigue in Combeferre’s eyes, so he gives in, softening a little and telling him, “A little over two weeks now. We’re going out for dinner tonight. Speaking of which, I have to text her back. Just give me a few seconds.” He returns his gaze to his phone, hoping Éponine doesn’t think that he’s forgotten about her after not texting her back in… He checks the time on his phone. It’s been eight minutes.

Well, he’s left people hanging for much longer than that.

**me: Meet me at my place around six?**

He’s just about to slip his phone back into his pocket when it buzzes, and for once, he’s heedless of how Courfeyrac and Combeferre are watching him intently as he reads Éponine’s response.

**Éponine: you got it. it’s a date, pretty boy ;)**

Unable to keep himself from grinning like an idiot, Enjolras slips his phone back into his pocket as he turns his attention back to his friends, noticing the shit-eating grin on Courfeyrac’s face and an unreadable expression on Combeferre’s. Puzzled, Enjolras asks, “What?”

“You like her,” Combeferre deduces out loud, his tone final. “And I think she likes you too. I’m pretty sure you already know about how cynical she is when it comes to relationships, so keeping this thing going past the first night is probably a huge deal for her. You definitely wouldn’t have kept this going for as long as it has if you were just trying to get in her pants. You like her.”

Enjolras, finding that his mouth doesn’t quite work after hearing Combeferre’s words, stammers out, “I—what—what are you—how— _what_ —”

“Yeah, he definitely likes her,” Courfeyrac says to Combeferre a little too loudly, giving Enjolras a pointed smirk, and it’s absolutely _infuriating_ that Courfeyrac is acting as if he knows something Enjolras doesn’t. “Good for you, Enjy, it’s about time you got some.”

“You’re unbelievable,” Enjolras mutters, his cheeks burning as he deflates in his seat, a petulant pout on his countenance as he takes his phone out to look through the texts he and Éponine have sent back and forth for the past couple of days. He doesn’t quite notice how Combeferre and Courfeyrac exchange knowing looks when he smiles at a selfie he and Éponine took during their date a couple of days ago. Six o’clock can’t come soon enough.

* * *

Éponine rummages about in the suitcase full of clothes she’s kept at Grantaire’s place ever since she first started staying there for suitable clothes to wear for her second date with Enjolras as Grantaire watches her do so with thinly veiled amusement, hugging a fuzzy throw pillow to his chest as Éponine tosses clothes every which way in her search for the perfect outfit. “You said you weren’t planning on anything serious,” Grantaire points out as Éponine crows in delight upon finding a perfect wine-red V-neck choker tank top that she hasn’t worn in forever. “Why are you stressing so much about this?”

“Oh, bite me,” Éponine retorts, searching for something to wear below—a miniskirt, perhaps? In their two weeks of whatever the fuck it is that’s going on between them, Enjolras has never seen her in a miniskirt; she thinks it’d be amusing to see his reaction to seeing her in one. “I’m _sorry_ for wanting to look nice.”

“You’ve never cared this much before,” Grantaire informs her candidly when she lets out a triumphant hoot, holding up a black miniskirt made of a stretchy denim material for him to see. “Are you completely sure you’re not into him?”

“Can’t I want to look nice without you questioning my motives?” Éponine ripostes, waving the miniskirt around. “Like I told you, R, Gabriel is a great friend and he’s not into me like that. We’re both just in it for the sex. What do you think of this skirt?”

“You’re both just in it for the sex, my ass,” Grantaire mutters under his breath, not quite answering Éponine’s question. He lets out a yelp when she throws a hairbrush at him, failing to duck soon enough and wincing when it hits him square in the forehead. Once he composes himself, he tells her, “He’s into you, Ep! He would never let this go on for as long as it has if he just considered it to be another fling!”

Éponine stops, considering Grantaire’s words. She’s determined not to fall in love with Enjolras, and if there’s one thing she’s even more determined to do, it’s letting herself believe he’s actually into her like that, that it goes deeper than surface attraction. She’s certain Enjolras doesn’t like her in that way, that he’s only in this for a good fuck like she is, and she’s convinced that the looks she sometimes catches him giving her are simply figments of her imagination. She’s let herself succumb to hope one too many times before this and it’s only ever resulted in disappointment. If there’s one thing she knows now, it’s that hope is for suckers.

“Don’t be ridiculous, R,” Éponine counters at last. “Just answer my fucking question, damn it, what do you think of this skirt?”

“It looks nice, wear it,” Grantaire says dismissively. “Stop trying to change the subject. I know Enjy. He’s too nice of a guy to let himself lead people on. He’s definitely into you if he’s kept this thing going for this long.”

“Grantaire.” Éponine finally looks up, brown eyes finding green. “Drop it.”

Grantaire shrugs and leans back on the futon, watching as Éponine picks out some choice underwear and whistling under his breath at how fucking impractical they are. “Suit yourself. I won’t say I told you so when you two make things official in a few weeks or so.”

“You won’t have to say it because it’s not going to happen,” Éponine asserts firmly. “Falling in love is absolute bullshit and I’m not going to let myself go through all that pain again.”

Grantaire raises an eyebrow at how Éponine seems to have her mind set on believing that love is fake. Not that he doesn’t agree to some extent—he himself is sceptical of that sort of thing as well, though he isn’t quite as adamant as Éponine, who is convinced that nobody will ever change her mind about love being a cruel joke and a waste of time after witnessing her parents’ marriage completely disintegrate while growing up. “Well, we’ll see who gets the last laugh.”

“Spoiler alert: it’s not going to be you,” Éponine says a little too confidently.

“You know what they say,” Grantaire says, grinning to himself at the opportunity to mess with her a bit. “‘Sex is emotion in motion’.”

Éponine pauses, considering his words for a few moments before she makes a face. “R, literally no one says that.”

She holds up a pair of matching underwear, the same underwear she wore two days ago on their date—those lacy crimson panties and matching bra that Enjolras goes absolutely wild for. Grantaire grimaces at the sight of the underwear, cringing at how goddamn _impractical_ those flimsy things that barely pass for underwear are.

“That,” he says, pausing for dramatic effect, “is fucking ridiculous.” He can’t imagine how uncomfortable she’ll be the entire time while wearing them.

“You’d be surprised at how far I’ll go to seduce someone,” Éponine replies matter-of-factly as she straightens up, her outfit of choice bunched up in her arms. “He loves these panties and this bra. He goes crazy for them every time.”

“You’ve certainly got him wrapped around your finger,” Grantaire drawls a bit too implicatively as Éponine flips him off while on her way to the bathroom to change.

Once in the tiny bathroom, Éponine strips down so she’d be completely naked and observes herself in the mirror, eyeing her stretch marks and scars here and there, her faded and fading scars serving as a painful reminder of the hard life she’s led. Picking up her panties, she wriggles into them as her mind begins to wander, drifting to thoughts of how Enjolras always manages to make her feel beautiful despite the numerous imperfections on her body, and she smiles at the thought before forcing it out of her mind, slipping into the sheer crimson thing that barely passes for a bra. She slips into her miniskirt and pulls her tank top on, liking how it shows just the perfect amount of cleavage—not too much and not too little, just enough to keep him interested until they inevitably have sex later that night. Or maybe earlier than that if her intense sex drive gets the better of her like it tends to do.

Looking at herself in the mirror once again, she purses her lips, wondering if she should opt for lip gloss or lipstick. Eventually deciding on the deep crimson-coloured lipstick she had on when she first met Enjolras, she puts it on before carefully outlining her eyes with her trademark purple eyeliner, grinning at her reflection in satisfaction once she’s put a little concealer on her face to mask the acne here and there. Once she tosses her clothes in the laundry basket, she saunters out dramatically to reveal herself to Grantaire, who whistles appreciatively.

“Damn, mama, you’re looking foxy,” he compliments brazenly as Éponine smirks, tracing the curve of her hip through her high-waisted skirt as Grantaire remarks, “Enjy isn’t going to know what hit him.”

“I’ll catch you later, then,” Éponine tells him, going over to grab her leather jacket off the futon and dramatically press a kiss of farewell to Grantaire’s forehead before she pulls her black leather block-heel ankle boots on and darts out of the apartment, hoping she doesn’t look as if she’s trying too hard. She doesn’t want him to get the wrong idea.

For reasons she can’t quite understand, her heart sinks at the inevitability of this… whatever the fuck it is ending at some point, not wanting to lose Enjolras just yet. He’s an amazing lay as well as an amazing friend, having gotten her that job interview with his boss, and she doesn’t want to think about having to end their little arrangement at any point in the near future.

She’s still determined not to fall in love, though. She’s not going to delude herself into believing Enjolras wants more than these casual dates and the sex after. The mere thought of it is ridiculous. He’s _Gabriel Enjolras_ , perfect in every way imaginable and obviously meant for great things, and she’s _Éponine_ …

Forcing herself to stop dwelling on it for any longer, Éponine briskly makes her way down the streets of Chicago, a bit of a spring in her step at the idea of introducing Enjolras to her favourite all-you-can-eat place. Before she knows it, she’s on his doorstep once again, mirroring the events of two days ago, and she wonders if it’ll end the way their previous date did. Considering their little arrangement, she’s sure it’ll end in sex again unless he has something else in mind.

It takes a total of thirteen seconds after Éponine rings the doorbell for Enjolras to open the door, and despite herself, Éponine’s mind drifts back to Grantaire’s earlier words—“You’ve certainly got him wrapped around your finger.” Internally swearing every curse she knows at Grantaire for popping up in her mind at the most inopportune moment, she turns her attention to Enjolras, liking what she sees—surprisingly, he’s wearing jeans as well as a leather jacket in a deep shade of cherry red over a plain white T-shirt, worlds different from his usual khakis and plaid button-up shirts. She smiles appreciatively at the sight, reaching out to feel the leather of his jacket collar.

“Who are you and what have you done with the Gabriel I know and love?” she teases, making his face flush scarlet.

“I decided to change things up a bit for tonight,” Enjolras replies simply, his breath catching in his throat at the sight of her all dressed up and the realisation that she’s just indirectly told him that she loves him. Trying not to read into it too much before his imagination begins to run away from him, he relents and admits, “Actually, Courfeyrac forced me into letting him pick my outfit for the date, so… here I am.”

“I should have known.” Éponine grins at him, that dazzling grin that brings out the dimples in her cheeks, and Enjolras nearly forgets how to speak at just how enticing she is, wondering how a girl like her is still single. Then again, from the secrets they’ve shared in the dead of the night over pillows dampened with sweat, she’s been dubious about the concept of love ever since watching her parents’ miserable marriage fall apart while growing up, and it doesn’t help that she’s been completely screwed over in every single one of her past long-term relationships, which only further contributed to her belief that love isn’t worth it. Enjolras sometimes catches himself thinking that maybe he could be the one who changes her mind about it all before he realises how conceited that sounds, knowing that Éponine will only open up if she wants to open up and it’s entirely her decision to make if she wants to do so with him.

After standing there in silence for a few more moments, Enjolras clears his throat. “Where exactly is this place?”

“It’s a great place, you’ll love it,” Éponine promises him, taking his hand in hers and beginning to drag him towards the elevator. He notices how she’s two inches taller in her ankle boots, reaching just below his nose, as they enter the elevator, standing there and looking at their reflections in the mirror before they reach the ground floor, and then it’s off they go.

“It’s actually not far from your place,” Éponine tells Enjolras as she links her arm with his, the two of them beginning to make their way down the pavement. “Just a few blocks. We can walk there.”

Éponine is pleased to find that the restaurant is moderately filled with people once they reach the place—not too empty, but not too crowded for her taste either. People are milling about, okay-ish music playing in the background as various smells of foods from all over wafts from the kitchen doors, which swing open every now and then and allows them a glimpse of the chefs working inside. All in all, it’s absolutely perfect.

Once they’ve paid the entrance price, Éponine turns her head to look up at Enjolras with a smile. “Should we go grab some food?”


	6. part vi

Enjolras finds himself sitting in a booth in the corner with Éponine, the two of them feasting on lamb chops and sweet potato fries with frothy beers in hand as they engage in animated conversation. Éponine likes asking him about his other friends and he finds out that she does indeed know Combeferre. Enjolras honestly wonders if his life is one massive cliché—first he meets Éponine at the bar she works at through a mutual friend, Grantaire, and that night ends in sex, which leads to a casual relationship of sorts and then a date, which ends in sex once again, and then he finds out Combeferre knows Éponine as well and now they’re on their second date. Enjolras doesn’t usually expect much from people, but based off previous encounters with Éponine, he’s almost certain that this night will end like any other—back at his place to take another trip to pound town. He knows it would sound absolutely ridiculous if he was to say it out loud.

“How are things at work?” Éponine questions after some time, reaching over to snatch one of Enjolras’ fries off his plate and pop it in her mouth without so much as asking. Had it been anyone else stealing his food, Enjolras would certainly have a few choice words in store for them, but oddly enough, he finds it _endearing_ when Éponine does it. He knows damn well that this— _thing_ —has to end sooner or later, but he catches himself thinking that he doesn’t want it to, actually _hoping_ that it doesn’t end.

“Okay,” he replies honestly. “Nothing particularly out of the ordinary. I’m just another editorial assistant. The job pays, though, so I can’t complain.”

“Didn’t you mention once how your mom puts some money in your bank account every month too?” Éponine asks in complete earnest. Despite her tone of voice, Enjolras blushes.

“She does,” Enjolras confirms. He doesn’t exactly announce to the world at any given chance that he’s a trust-fund kid; Éponine is one of the few people who knows of that fact. He can count the amount of people who knows about his parents’ wealth on one hand. Now that he’s twenty-five and living on his own, making enough money to support himself, he doesn’t really feel the need for his parents’ money, though his mother still insists on putting in a little bit of money each month in his bank account despite his protests.

“Must be nice, growing up rich.” Éponine cringes at how unintentionally critical she must have come off as, knowing that she shouldn’t condemn other people for having money just because she herself hasn’t had much, if any, of it since the age of eight. “Sorry, that came out wrong.”

Enjolras laughs that airy laugh that absolutely infuriates Éponine due to how it brings out those eye crinkles that are way more adorable than they should be allowed to be and how it elicits that gorgeous smile that’s enough to rival sunshine itself. She catches herself smiling and dissolving into laughter as well, the two of them laughing in unison for reasons she can’t quite remember by the time their giggles die down. She catches his eye as he places a hand on top of hers, smiling softly at her and missing how her cheeks flush the faintest shade of pink.

“I don’t think I’ve mentioned it yet, but you look beautiful,” he tells her quietly, rubbing circles into the back of her hand as she smiles to herself and looks down in her lap, mildly embarrassed.

Why does he have to be so goddamn nice? She’s not supposed to be feeling butterflies in her stomach at a single sentence from him, at something as small and simple as a smile. Hell, she isn’t supposed to be feeling this way, _period_. She won’t allow it.

Although, he _does_ look smoking hot in those clothes Courfeyrac picked out for him—it gives him a bit of a bad boy look, and Éponine’s been known to fall for bad boys and rebel girls and God knows whom else in the past. Fuck, he is one sexy piece of ass. She imagines having him fuck her in those very clothes, shivering to herself at the mere idea of it. The things she would do to him right now.

Looking back up, she gives him a little grin, replying candidly as she leans in closer, “You don’t look half bad yourself.”

The things she’ll do to him right now.

Enjolras’ cheeks burn at Éponine’s words and he looks down, noticing that a fork’s fallen onto the ground just below the table. “Did you drop that?” he asks, looking back up with a puzzled look on his face.

Éponine looks below the table and her heart leaps in her chest at the realisation that yeah, she probably did drop that at some point during their meal. Inspired, she replies, “Fuck, I guess I did.” She pretends to prepare to slide down below the table and pick it up when Enjolras stops her from doing so.

“I’ll get it,” he assures her, being the gentleman that he is. Éponine smiles to herself as Enjolras slides below the table. If she recalls correctly, the few bathrooms of the restaurant are those private, single bathrooms with a lock, and if everything goes according to spontaneous plan, she and Enjolras will be occupying one of those bathrooms _very_ shortly.

When he crouches down to grab the offending fork, Éponine spreads her legs just a bit, allowing him a glimpse of those crimson panties that he adores so much.

The effect is instantaneous—the table jerks up just a fraction of an inch, rattling the tableware, as a groan sounds from underneath the table, and soon Enjolras is sitting back up in his seat, his face scarlet, rubbing his head and cursing under his breath as he places the fork back on the table, and oh, look—he’s already fidgeting in his seat, visibly growing uncomfortable, and Éponine can’t help but smirk triumphantly.

He must _really_ like those panties.

“’Ponine, what the fuck?” he mutters, biting his lip and red in the face. “What was that?”

In lieu of a response, Éponine lifts her boot-clad foot and gently presses it to his crotch, feeling how obviously hard he is and almost caressing his erection through his jeans with her foot, rubbing circles into his crotch, the look in her eyes just taunting him to lose control right there. He grits his teeth, refusing to give in to her merciless teasing, and his knuckles whiten as his grip on the edge of the table tightens. It goes on like this for a while before he finally gives in, asking hoarsely, “Is there a bathroom around?”

Éponine’s eyes sparkle with delight and she nods. “Come with me.”

Actually reaching one of the bathrooms is a messy affair of Enjolras trying desperately to hide his raging boner and Éponine resisting the near-uncontrollable urge to pounce on him right then and there, and once they’ve found a vacant bathroom, she barely manages to lock the door behind them before jumping up on top of him, hooking her legs around his waist and capturing his lips in a heated kiss while he stumbles and only just succeeds in setting her on the edge of the counter, his breathing hard and ragged against her lips.

“A quickie in the bathroom, ’Ponine?” he mutters, his hands roving over her body as she shivers at his touch. In their two weeks of this casual relationship, they still have yet to do it in a bathroom, and in a public setting, no less. “Are you sure you can stay quiet enough for that?”

“Try me, pretty boy,” she responds against his lips, her hands moving up into his hair and grabbing at his curls, pulling his face closer to hers as he growls into her mouth and grinds against her, her skirt pushed up and the only barrier between them being her thin red panties. It takes all she has to keep as quiet as possible, letting out a high-pitched moan against his lips as heat races through her body at the feeling of his hard-on poking against her crotch, her body springing to life and an all-too-familiar ache settling between her legs.

“Gabriel…” She resists a whine when his hand makes its way under the waistband of her panties, slowly stroking her to wetness as he draws back to watch her, a bit of a smirk on his face. His fingers dip in and out of her folds and she lets out a blissful gasp, pulling him closer to her and repeating his name like a prayer under her breath, whispering into his ear, “ _Please_ …”

He finds her heated cleft, two fingers making its way into her core as she pulls him close, her arms around his neck and her soft moans echoing in his ear as she tries to keep her voice down while he pumps two fingers inside her, working her to wetness. She arches her back, grasping desperately at his hair as her hips buck against his hand, a low moan of his name falling from her lips along with a stream of partially incomprehensible words, all of them very much resembling the word ‘please’. Enjolras smirks at how she’s falling apart from his touch, his fingers pumping and scissoring and sliding in and out of her, up and down, left and right and every which way, and she moans a little too loudly when his fingers brush against her clit, prompting him to press a hand against her mouth to silence her.

“Gabriel!” Éponine’s voice comes out muffled as she unravels at the seams with a muted, choked cry, clenching around his fingers and seeing stars dance behind her eyes. Enjolras watches her as she falls apart at his touch, his fingers continuing to weave and delve inside her until she’s a red-faced, panting mess, her breathing harsh and ragged.

“Gabriel…” She whimpers when he pulls his fingers out of her and brings them to his mouth, licking away her fluids and humming in contentment as he does so to tease her. “Gabriel, I need you…” She looks down, breathing hard. Fuck, she wants it so fucking bad.

“Do you have a condom?” Enjolras asks breathlessly. Éponine nods.

“Hold on.” Thankfully enough, in their rush to get to the bathroom earlier, she didn’t forget to bring her purse, and she rummages about for that little bag containing some of her birth control pills and numerous emergency condoms for situations such as this. Pulling one out at random, she rips off the wrapper as Enjolras undoes his belt and pulls down his pants just slightly to free his cock, groaning when Éponine wastes no time in rolling the condom over his thick, swollen length. She pulls her panties down and he aligns himself with her opening before entering her with one swift thrust, making her gasp as he buries himself deep inside her, her legs struggling to wrap themselves around his waist before she manages to do so, unable to breathe at the feeling of being filled. They’re such a perfect fit, it’s almost unfair.

It takes everything she has to keep as quiet as possible when he begins to move inside her, fire racing through her body and making it impossible to think straight as she lets out soft, high-pitched moans at the feeling of his thrusts, burying her face in his neck as he lifts her up to place her firmly against the wall. Enjolras groans into her ear from deep in his throat, grasping her thighs and thrusting roughly into her, making her mewl with each well-angled jerk of his hips. Éponine’s head falls on the crook of his shoulder as she bites down hard on her bottom lip to keep herself from screaming out when he starts to pick up the pace, furiously pounding into her, plunging deep inside her with each harsh thrust and making her forget how to breathe.

“Fuck… ’Ponine, you’re so…” Enjolras lets out a low, animalistic growl at the feeling of her tight warmth engulfing him, his breathing harsh and uneven in her ear as he slams into her and she throws her head back, one of his hands moving up to cover her mouth when she cries out at the sensation of his cock grinding roughly against her walls, hitting every spot just right and making her lose her mind. He lets out a low, strangled moan when she buries her face in the crook of his neck once again to stifle her moans and squeals, fire pooling between her legs as he shifts his angle just slightly, brushing her clit with each harsh thrust and threatening to bring her over the edge. Their rhythm grows wild and frantic, hips rocking against each other at a frenzied pace as they do everything they can to keep quiet while he holds her up against the wall, large hands gripping her thighs as he pounds relentlessly into her, her cries muffled by his shoulder.

“Oh, God, _Gabriel_ —” Éponine barely manages to resist a scream when he slams into her, the intensity of his cock hitting all the right spots becoming almost too much to bear and bringing her closer to a blinding release. She’s barely able to breathe, able to focus only on Enjolras and how he’s furiously, relentlessly thrusting into her, his breathing hard and ragged in her ear. Bracing herself for what’s sure to come, she buries her face in his neck and sinks her teeth into his skin.

Enjolras pounds into her at machine-gun speed and that sends her spiralling towards a violent climax, lost in the unimaginable euphoria they’re both experiencing as he pounds into her, their rhythm frenetic. He groans from deep in his throat at the feeling of her clenching around him, shuddering in his arms as she starts to come apart, and that’s when he slams into her _hard_ and hits a golden spot that makes her see stars behind her eyes. Éponine resists the unbelievable urge to scream as she bites down on the crook of his neck once again, clenching around him and losing all control with a strangled cry as his rhythm becomes erratic and uncontrolled, his low groans of her name echoing in her ear.

Enjolras’ movements become less controlled, his breath catching as he thrusts into her a few more times before he stills, shuddering and losing control as she tangles her fingers in his unruly golden curls, mewling when he comes inside her with a choked growl, panting against her neck as they both lose themselves in the moment. Éponine whines at how he pulsates inside her, his breathing laboured as he draws back to gaze at her, the both of them slowly drifting back to earth after the utter intensity of their orgasms.

Enjolras chuckles as Éponine slowly lifts her head up, her hair in disarray and her pupils blown, her eyes finding his. “That,” he murmurs, leaning in to kiss her forehead, “was amazing.”

She musters a small grin, breathless as she responds, “I hope that wasn’t it from you, pretty boy.”

“Of course not.” His lips find hers in a kiss, strangely gentle despite the circumstances, and she lets out a soft moan into his mouth at the feeling, his lips warm against hers. When he pulls away, he tells her, “When we get back to my place, we’re not stopping until neither of us can move.”

Éponine whimpers at the loss of warmth when Enjolras pulls out of her, gently setting her back down on the tiled floor before he disposes of the condom and pulls his pants up again, doing his belt while Éponine rearranges her panties back in place and pulls down her skirt, going over to the sink to wash her hands, and she notices how Enjolras seems to smile triumphantly to himself at the sight of her walking all funny. As she does so, she steals a glance at herself in the mirror, still hardly able to recognise the girl she sees after two weeks of this thing going on between them. She observes the girl in the mirror—she’s well-kissed, well-fucked, hair wild and tumbling down her shoulders, a rosy blush on her cheeks and a satisfied smile playing at her lips. She likes this image of her, still needing some time to get used to it after two weeks of this casual relationship with Enjolras, who always fucks her so thoroughly, who she’s so strangely drawn to for reasons she still can’t quite comprehend. Her gaze drifts to his reflection in the mirror—he’s standing there with his back to her, waiting patiently for her to finish cleaning herself up. She smiles.

Once she dries her hands out after using that shitty hand dryer next to the sink counter for five minutes or so while Enjolras washes his hands, and once he dries out his hands as well, she slips one of her hands into one of his and squeezes it. He glances down at her with a bit of a smile on his face, asking, “Shall we go?”

Éponine grins at him. “Let’s blow this taco stand.”


	7. part vii

“You fucked her in a _restaurant bathroom_?! Damn, Enjy, I didn’t know you were into that kind of shit!”

Enjolras cringes at how fucking _loud_ Courfeyrac is being, not particularly wishing for details of his sex life to be announced for the whole world to hear. It’s nearing noon on the day after Enjolras’ bathroom sexcapade with Éponine; Enjolras is sitting on a park bench on Navy Pier with Courfeyrac, the both of them gazing out at the waters and the Chicago skyline as they eat Ben and Jerry’s, watching the rippling water. “Jesus fucking Christ, keep your voice down!” Enjolras hisses, smacking Courfeyrac in the arm and he feeling his cheeks burning. “Would it kill you to talk in a normal tone of voice like a normal fucking person every once in a while?”

Courfeyrac merely throws his head back and howls with laughter, evidently enjoying himself as he riles Enjolras up. He doesn’t seem to notice how his ice cream is beginning to melt under the sunlight, dripping down to his fingers as he comments, “You’ve really been spicing things up lately, haven’t you?”

Enjolras groans, not wanting to discuss what should be absolutely none of Courfeyrac’s business in the first place and taking a bite out of his ice cream, wincing when he feels an icy sensation in his teeth. “Shut up. I don’t want to talk about my sex life in public, thanks. I don’t think ’Ponine would be too pleased by the fact that we’re discussing the sex I’ve had with her in public either.”

“You really do like her, huh?” Courfeyrac brings the hand that’s holding his ice cream cone to his mouth to lick away the melted ice cream before he continues to lick at the ice cream scoop itself a little too bawdily, Enjolras making a face at the sight. “No offence, Enj, but you’re kind of uptight.”

“So I’ve been told,” Enjolras says dryly as he takes another bite out of his ice cream, not missing how Courfeyrac cringes at the sight.

“Jesus, can’t you just _lick_ your ice cream like a normal fucking person…” Courfeyrac mutters under his breath, half-aware of how he’s echoing Enjolras’ words from earlier somewhat and biting down on his lip, wiping away the melted ice cream dripping down his chin.

“I’m not going to give you any opportunities to make a dirty joke,” Enjolras deadpans. If there’s one thing he’s learnt in the seven years he’s known Courfeyrac, it’s how the guy can make a lewd joke out of _anything_.

“Anyway, as I was _saying_ , you’re kind of uptight,” Courfeyrac brings the subject back to what they had been talking about before they went off on a bit of a tangent, “and you don’t usually fuck the same person twice. Hell, you rarely fuck people _period_. Nothing wrong with that—I know you’re not usually into that kind of thing. But still, I’m pretty sure you like her. You’re kind of aloof, yeah, but you’re a great guy, Enjy, and you’re too nice to ever intentionally lead someone on. You wouldn’t have let this keep going on for as long as it has if you weren’t into her. You’re on a first-name basis with her, for God’s sake! You’re not on a first-name basis with anyone else but her and your parents!”

Enjolras’ mouth goes dry at Courfeyrac’s words, realising that he has a point. He’s not the kind of person to let a hookup stick around past the initial one-night stand, never wanting them to get the wrong idea and chase after him—according to Courfeyrac and Grantaire, he’s apparently a catch and anyone would kill to be with him. Before this, his few sexual encounters with people have always been strictly one-night stands, no strings attached, and he realises that his arrangement with Éponine is the closest he’s ever gotten to an actual relationship. There’s also the fact that he’s becoming increasingly aware of his subtle feelings towards her, which he realises in shock are becoming less subtle as time passes by.

Damn Courfeyrac and his unexpectedly eye-opening words.

Courfeyrac is smirking in the most infuriating manner and biting at his waffle cone once Enjolras seems to break out of his trance, absolutely flabbergasted as he stares straight at the rippling blue water, completely thrown off by what Courfeyrac just made him realise. He almost doesn’t hear Courfeyrac saying, “Close your mouth, chief, you’ll catch flies. Also, your ice cream’s starting to melt.”

Enjolras absently wipes away the melting ice cream with the tissue paper he was provided when he and Courfeyrac went to buy their ice cream, still caught off-guard at the realisation that _shit_ , he’s actually developing feelings for Éponine. He can just hear the smirk in Courfeyrac’s voice when he questions smugly, “Still in shock from your love epiphany over there?”

Enjolras returns to earth and promptly swats at Courfeyrac’s arm again, shooting him a withering glare as he laughs loudly, almost as if he’s mocking Enjolras. “I had no such thing,” Enjolras stoutly denies.

“Oh, sure.” Courfeyrac is clearly unconvinced, raising a dubious eyebrow. “If it looks, sounds, and acts like a duck, it’s a duck, honey.”

Making an incredulous face at the strange analogy, Enjolras says, “Well, even if I _was_ developing feelings for her, _which I am not_ —” he feels the need to defensively clarify when Courfeyrac wiggles his eyebrows with that maddening smirk on his face growing ever wider “—she doesn’t want anything other than sex and my companionship, and since I’m a decent fucking person, I’m going to respect that. I’m not going to press her into giving more than what she’s comfortable giving.”

“Your mouth says that,” Courfeyrac remarks, “but your eyes are saying something else entirely.”

Enjolras gives him the iciest glare he can muster, barely able to keep himself from smirking triumphantly when Courfeyrac flinches. “Courf. _Drop it._ ”

“Okay, fine!” Courfeyrac shoves the last of his ice cream cone in his mouth and raises his arms in surrender. If Enjolras isn’t so fed up right now, he would laugh at the sight of Courfeyrac with his arms in the air in complete surrender while chewing on what’s left of his ice cream cone. “But you need to admit it to yourself, Enjy, you’re into her and you _know_ it.”

“I thought I told you to drop it,” Enjolras reminds him through clenched teeth, not wanting to dwell on it any further. Finishing the last of his ice cream, he pulls his phone out to find a text from Éponine just waiting to be read.

**Éponine: do you want to hang out again at some point? i’m pretty busy this next week tho… what do you think about tuesday night? i’m free then, and all of wednesday too**

Enjolras, unaware of how he smiles upon reading her text, quickly comes up with a response.

**me: Tuesday night would work just fine for me. I don’t have much going on the next day either, so you’re welcome to stick around on Wednesday morning, maybe we could go somewhere together? What do you think about a night in at my place? We could order pizza, maybe binge-watch something on Netflix… up to you.**

“Damn, you are seriously fucked.” Enjolras jumps at the realisation that Courfeyrac’s been reading over his shoulder, immediately turning around and smacking Courfeyrac in the arm yet again, cheeks flushed scarlet.

“What the _fuck_ , Courf? Have you ever heard of _privacy_?” Enjolras spits at him, an angry blush colouring his cheeks and making Courfeyrac laugh out loud.

“Gabriel Enjolras, suggesting that you two Netflix and chill?” Courfeyrac nearly doubles over in mirth, his laughter splitting his sides at how fucking absurd that sounds when said out loud and how unlike Enjolras it is. “I thought that kind of thing was beneath you.”

“It is,” Enjolras replies curtly, turning off his phone and slipping it back into his pocket, cheeks burning. “Contrary to popular belief, Courf, some people really do just want to watch Netflix with someone and not have sex during it. We’re just going to hang out. Maybe we’ll have sex after.”

“You mean probably,” Courfeyrac corrects him.

“Drop it,” Enjolras reiterates, shooting Courfeyrac an icy blue-eyed glare. “I really don’t want to discuss my sex life. It’s uncomfortable.”

“Suit yourself,” Courfeyrac replies airily, grinning as if he knows something Enjolras doesn’t and leaning back against the backrest of the bench, watching a boat go by.

* * *

“This thing with Enjolras is going to have to end at some point if it’s just a casual relationship, you know.”

Éponine winces at the offhand reminder from Grantaire, the two of them sitting on his folded-up futon with beers  in hand, the two of them in the midst of a Brooklyn Nine-Nine binge. Lightning flashes outside and illuminates the sky, thunder shaking the apartment, and Éponine curls up in the knit blanket she’s draped herself in, the sound of the rain pattering against the windows serving as a comfort while she keeps her eyes on the TV screen. The beer warms her insides as she bites down on her lip, her heart sinking at Grantaire’s reminder.

“Don’t,” she says quietly, not wanting to think about having to end things with Enjolras, not when they have such a good thing going right now. It’s a dreary Monday night, a day before her next date with Enjolras, and she’s just returned from another day of bartending. Over the past week, Enjolras has come to the bar often just to chat with her as she goes about her business, the two of them engaged in conversation as she serves the patrons of the bar. She remembers how they went into the break room in the back of the bar a couple of days ago when she was off her shift and he had her against the wall before she threw him on the nearest flat surface and rode him into oblivion, and she can’t recall the last time she’s ever been fucked so thoroughly.

The sound of Grantaire’s voice brings her back to earth. “You’ll break his heart, Éponine.”

“I said _don’t_ ,” Éponine repeats, and Grantaire’s eyes widen at the venom in her voice. “I don’t want to think about that right now. He and I have a great thing going.”

“But he’s clearly into you,” Grantaire tells her, growing insistent as he takes another swig of beer. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you, Ep. Remember these past few days at the bar? I’ve never seen him look at someone the way he looks at you, even back when he had this thing for our friend Feuilly back in college. Boy’s got it bad.”

“ _Grantaire._ ” He’s thrown off by the dejection in Éponine’s voice, turning to look at her. She’s staring straight ahead at the TV screen with a resigned look on her face. “You know relationships and I don’t mix. He and I would just end up falling apart. Screwed over like all those relationships I’ve had in the past. I’m not going to let myself go through that again.” She turns her head to look at Grantaire, and he’s shocked to find that her dark eyes have gone glassy. “Do you know how much seeing your parents fall apart and ruin each other’s lives while growing up fucks you up? I let myself hope that things would turn out okay in my relationships, but I got completely screwed over. Gabriel and I would just fall apart.” She fixes Grantaire with a look, biting her lip. “You said I’ll break his heart. That’s how it’s going to end either way. We’d just screw each other over. Nothing good could possibly come out of a serious relationship with him.”

She sighs and looks back at the TV screen, comforted by the sound of the opening theme to the next episode. “I’m not good enough for him,” she mutters, taking a swig of her beer. “He deserves so much more than someone like me. Besides, everyone who’s ever been around me even once probably knows about how fucking terrified I am of relationships and commitment, and he deserves someone who would give him their all.” Toying with the edge of her blanket with one hand, she mumbles, “Just… just let me have this, please. I don’t want to think about how it’s going to have to end at one point. We’re doing good right now. Why ruin that?”

Grantaire shuts up at Éponine’s words, although he can’t help but grow concerned at how she practically radiates cynicism, especially these past few weeks. It’s almost as if she’s trying to force herself into not falling for Enjolras, convincing herself that she isn’t good enough for him so she wouldn’t let herself fall for him.

“Are you two still going to hang out tomorrow night?” Grantaire asks softly, tentative as the words spill from his mouth.

“Yeah, of course.” Éponine bites her lip as she watches the show, pointedly looking away from Grantaire. “He’s still a really great friend regardless of everything. No offence, R, but I could use a few more friends. I can’t just have you be the one person besides my siblings who actually has my back.”

“None taken.” Grantaire takes a swig of beer again, shivering in delight as it warms his insides. “Well, I hope you have fun. Who knows? Maybe you’ll change your mind about love at some point.”

Éponine turns her head to look at him incredulously, snorting in distaste. “Yeah, and maybe one day I’ll realise that I was really heterosexual all along.”

Grantaire rolls his eyes, turning his attention back to Brooklyn Nine-Nine. “I’m just saying. Enjolras is a great guy. You two would be good with each other.”

“R, I really don’t want to talk about it right now,” Éponine mutters under her breath as she wraps herself up in her blanket even more, a deafening clap of thunder rattling the apartment as the rain patters against the windows.

She’s not going to fall for Enjolras. She established that rule a long time ago.

The thing is, she’s wondering if she’s subconsciously starting to break it.


	8. part viii

Éponine shakes the rainwater off her trench coat as thunder rumbles outside, the wind picking up speed as the downpour worsens. She’s standing on Enjolras’ doorstep in her trench coat and knee-high boots, her messenger bag slung over one shoulder, and she would’ve arrived wearing nothing but lacy lingerie underneath but alas, it was not to be due to the abrupt rainstorm that began just before she left Grantaire’s place, which led to her wearing actual clothes underneath for fear of catching a cold. It’s six o’clock on Tuesday night and she’s just desperate for some warmth and a cup of hot tea, knowing Enjolras is fond of tea and would probably make her a cup of it in a heartbeat. She shivers, shaking water off her new waterproof newsboy cap, glad that she put her hair up in a bun earlier to tuck under her cap, just as Enjolras opens the door for her.

“’Ponine!” He reaches out to take her hand and pull her inside, helping her out of her coat and hanging it up on one of the hooks by the door as she reaches down to unzip her boots, kicking them off once she does so. She’s wearing nothing but a pair of leggings and a tank top that hugs her curves, and she looks Enjolras up and down as they stand there in the entrance hall—he’s wearing sweatpants and a red T-shirt that makes it look as if his arm muscles are trying to explode out of the shirt. She gives him a little smile, trying not to think about the conversation she had with Grantaire the previous night.

“What’s up?” she greets lightly, standing on tiptoe to press a kiss to his cheek in greeting, giggling when she sees his cheeks flush pink at the gesture.

“Not much,” Enjolras replies, having gone rather breathless at the sight of her. She’s just so radiant, even when dressed simply in leggings and that tank top that doesn’t fail to give him a nice full view of her cleavage, and when she’s smiling at him like that, it’s impossible to think straight.

He’s well and truly fucked.

“What do you want to do?” Éponine asks softly, her gaze flicking to his lips for just a millisecond before she forces herself to look back up into his eyes.

“Do you want to order pizza?” Enjolras offers, blue eyes bright.

Éponine grins at him and stands on tiptoe to press a kiss to his lips this time, drawing back and giggling even more at how his face is a bright shade of scarlet. “Pizza sounds great.”

They’re soon sitting on the couch in the living room of Enjolras’ bachelor pad with beers in hand after ordering pizza, trying to decide on a movie to watch together. They’re looking through the countless movies Enjolras has on demand on his TV and Éponine’s astounded at just how fucking loaded he is—or his family is, at least—as they rate every movie out loud before inevitably passing on each one.

“What about _Pretty Woman_?” Enjolras tries, reading off the description on-screen.

Éponine scrunches up her face in distaste and violently shakes her head. “Hell no. Watched it too many times this one time and I’m fucking sick of it now. Completely overrated, if you ask me.” Reaching over to take the remote from Enjolras, she suggests, “ _Die Hard_?”

“No, not my thing.” Enjolras takes a sip of his beer, wondering when exactly he became the kind of person to indulge in such things as Éponine moves on to the next movie. After debating back and forth about their available movie choices as the storm rages on outside—Éponine completely tears apart _Bridget Jones_ , _The Holiday_ , _My Best Friend’s Wedding_ , and really just romcoms in general, going off on an angry tirade about how those damned movies set false expectations of love and are always predictable and clichéd, and Enjolras isn’t going to disagree after seeing the fire in her eyes as she rants on and on about how ridiculously overrated romantic comedies are—the two of them eventually narrow their choices down to the musicals available to watch on demand.

“ _Grease_ is a no-go,” Éponine proclaims, making a face and taking a swig of beer. “It’s a classic and all, sure, but everyone knows Danny and Sandy’s relationship is doomed. It’s got some pretty sweet bops, though. Makes up for the shitty plot.”

“I guess that’s a no from you,” Enjolras says, sighing as he takes another sip of his beer. “You’re really picky when it comes to movies, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, it’s a bit of a problem,” Éponine replies, biting her lip. “I’m sorry for being so demanding.”

“It’s fine,” Enjolras assures her. He himself is rather particular as well when it comes to choosing movies, which is why his friends never let him choose a movie for their monthly movie nights. “I get your hatred for most romcoms, they really are clichéd. What about _Mamma Mia_?”

Éponine turns her head to grin at him. “That’s for when we’re having movie nights with all of our friends, pretty boy. Just two people singing along to ABBA is pretty pathetic. It’s supposed to be a group thing.” She goes to the next movie and makes a face. “Why the fuck do you have Fifty Shades on demand?”

“I’ve never watched it,” Enjolras tells her, wincing at the sight of the the series on the TV screen. “My mother came over once and bought it, so I guess I’m stuck with it now.”

Éponine laughs at the idea of Enjolras’ middle-aged mother watching such a poor portrayal of BDSM relationships and a complete joke of an erotic movie in general, declaring, “‘Love Me Like You Do’ is sexier than the entire Fifty Shades trilogy combined.” She passes on Fifty Shades and goes to the next movie, and her entire face lights up.

“Oh! _Moulin Rouge!_ I love this movie!”

Reading the description, Enjolras points out, “It technically counts as a romcom.”

Éponine scoffs. “It’s too dramatic to be considered a romcom in my book. We’re watching it.”

Their pizza arrives about fifteen minutes into the movie, and Enjolras is the one to go downstairs to grab the pizza. His apartment is pretty high up in the building—the fourteenth floor or so. Éponine reasons that it’ll probably take a while for him to get the pizza and gets an idea, smirking to herself as she grabs her messenger bag and takes out her newest lingerie purchases and a short crimson satin robe, heading to the bathroom with a mission in mind.

When Enjolras returns with the pizza, he’s bewildered to find that the movie is still playing on the TV but the apartment is seemingly empty. “Éponine?” he calls out after he places the pizza on the kitchen counter, looking around for any sign of Éponine and nearly jumping out of his skin when she makes an appearance out of seemingly nowhere, wearing a short, long-sleeved satin robe that’s in his absolute favourite shade of crimson and doesn’t leave much to the imagination, her hair now out of its bun and tumbling wildly down her shoulders. He can see the sheer red stockings she has on as his gaze trails down, even more shocked to find that she’s wearing bright red hooker heels, adding five inches to her height.

Enjolras’ mouth goes dry at the sight of her dressed in such a manner, blue eyes widening. “’Ponine, what—what are you—” He’s at a complete loss for words, caught off-guard and feeling his sweatpants tightening around the crotch as Éponine gives him a downright _indecent_ look, smirking at him and twirling a lock of hair around her finger as she slowly approaches him, taking her sweet, sweet time in doing so.

Once she’s standing a mere three feet away from him, she undoes the robe and lets it slide off her body and puddle at her feet, revealing the lacy scarlet undergarments she has on, and damn it, she’s wearing fucking _garters_. Biting down on her lip as Enjolras’ gaze travels up her body until he meets her eyes, she smiles enticingly at him, secretly triumphant upon seeing the lustful look in his blue eyes. As if on cue, thunder crackles outside, thrilling and deafening.

“ _Voulez-vous coucher avec moi ce soir?_ ” Éponine purrs, and Enjolras’ brain short-circuits.

“’Ponine, what about—” His throat is completely dry, his voice hoarse as he murmurs, “What about the pizza?”

“Let’s save it for later,” she whispers breathlessly. “Microwaves are a thing, aren’t they?”

Without another word, Enjolras picks Éponine up and she lets out a squeal of delight, heading off to his bedroom with her laughter ringing in his ears and a slight head rush.

* * *

Éponine wakes up the next morning to the sound of raindrops beating against the windows, the rainstorm still raging on outside, with an ache between her legs, surprised to find that she’s still in Enjolras’ bed, the man in question sleeping beside her. She turns over to lie on her side, feeling herself smile at the sight of Enjolras sleeping so peacefully, his golden curls in disarray and the smallest bit of stubble on his chin, and she places a hand on his bare chest, feeling his steady heartbeat. She might just be imagining it, but Éponine thinks that he has a tiny hint of a smile on his face as he sleeps, long lashes fluttering every now and then, and her breath catches in her throat. This is all so… _domestic_.

It’s strange.

She lies down on her back again on the bed, her head falling back against the pillows as she stares up at the ceilings, sighing contentedly. Last night had easily been one of the best nights she’s ever spent with Enjolras, still able to taste his kisses as he drove her into the bed from the force of his thrusts, making her scream out his name for the whole world to hear. She’s certain she’s going to be walking all funny all day today from the way he ravaged her last night, but quite frankly, she isn’t complaining. He’s a damn good fuck and she’s amazed at his abilities, wondering how a guy like him hasn’t landed someone yet.

Turning back on her side, Éponine watches as Enjolras slowly opens his eyes, letting out a yawn before he turns his head and gives her a sleepy smile, blue eyes half-closed. “Good morning,” he whispers as she leans in to kiss him, sighing against his lips.

“Morning,” she murmurs in response, ignoring his awful morning breath in favour of kissing him, reasoning that she herself must have terrible morning breath as well. Good thing she brought a toothbrush.

When she pulls away, Enjolras says quietly, “Do you want to go shower?”

Éponine smiles at him rather lasciviously. “Only if you join me.”

Enjolras’ cheeks flame red at her words but he plays along anyway, murmuring, “Do condoms work in the water?”

“I’m on the pill,” Éponine responds breathlessly. “We’ll be fine. Unless you have any STD’s I don’t know about.”

Enjolras lets out a deep, husky laugh and leans in to kiss her, whispering against her lips, “Don’t worry, I don’t.”

“We should probably brush our teeth first,” Éponine suggests, giggling when he presses a kiss to her cheek before she sits up and slides out of bed, brazenly eyeing his morning wood through the sheets with great interest. Enjolras notices her doing so and blushes fiercely under her gaze, sliding out of bed and following her into his bathroom once she retrieves her toothbrush.

The two of them are soon under the steaming hot water together after brushing their teeth to be rid of the damned morning breath, Enjolras washing Éponine’s back with soap as she runs shampoo through her hair. “This is nice,” she murmurs, relaxing at the feeling of Enjolras massaging circles into her back before she motions for him to pause so she could rinse the shampoo out of her hair. “I’ve never done this before. This is new.” Once she rinses the soap off her back, she trades places with him to slather soap onto his back, trying not to think about how strangely intimate this all is.

“What, shower with someone?” Enjolras asks, shivering despite the scalding hot water upon feeling Éponine’s small hands rubbing his back, slathering soap all over.

“Yeah.” Éponine smiles, though she knows Enjolras can’t see it. “It’s nice.”

Once she rinses the soap off his back, he turns around and leans down to capture her lips in a soft kiss, sighing against her lips when she lets out a soft moan and stands on tiptoe, her arms moving to wrap around his neck as she lets out a moan upon feeling his hard-on brush against her crotch. His left arm around her slim torso, his right hand traces the curve of her hip before going down between her thighs, long fingers toying with her folds as she moans into his mouth at the heavenly feeling, kissing him even harder and tangling her fingers in his dampened locks of gold. Letting out a gasp when she feels two digits enter her, she detaches her mouth from his and lets out a loud moan when he moves to press kisses to her neck, fingers delving and weaving deep inside her and nearly making her legs give out.

“Gabriel…” Éponine sighs at the feeling of Enjolras’ thumb brushing against her clit and he grins against her neck, taking some of the sensitive skin between his teeth and gently nibbling at it. She squeals as he picks up the pace, fingers delving deep inside her, pumping in and out and igniting a fire inside her, tightness building in her navel. “Yes!”

Éponine grabs at Enjolras’ hair as he expertly works two fingers between her thighs, gasping and squealing as he bites and sucks at her neck. “Do you like that?” she hears him murmur against her neck over the noise of the shower water.

“Yes,” she breathes out, letting out a shriek when he begins to pump even faster, throwing her head back against the wall of the shower and let out a cry of pleasure despite the sharp sting, water pouring down on the both of them. “Gabriel!”

She’s just on the verge of losing it, so close to the edge, so close to _perfection_ , when Enjolras pulls his fingers out of her without warning, making her whimper at the throbbing ache between her legs. He pulls back as Éponine stares up at him, offended that he stopped when she was so close. “Gabriel, what the fuck was that?” she pants, biting down on her lip. “I was—fuck—”

Éponine backs up against the wall when Enjolras drops down to his knees in front of her, making her fall silent.

God, she doesn’t think she’s ever seen anything sexier than Enjolras falling to his knees in front of her.

“Is this okay?” he asks softly, gazing up at her through expectant blue eyes. Éponine gives a breathless nod.

When Enjolras’ mouth wastes no time in clamping over her clit, Éponine forgets how to speak.

Reaching down to tangle her fingers in his sodden curls, she lets out a scream at the feeling of his tongue delving between her folds, into her centre, lapping up her fluids as he sucks on her clit. “Gabriel!” Éponine gasps, fingers winding tight into his hair as Enjolras continues to lap at her, tongue exploring her core and mouth sucking at her clit as he moans at the taste of her, making her lose her mind from the sensations of him moaning from between her thighs.

She doesn’t try to hold back a scream of his name when his tongue flicks at her clit, sucking and swirling around it. “ _Gabriel!_ ” she shrieks, fingers wound into his hair, his face buried between her thighs and making stars dance behind her eyes. He groans from deep in his throat, tongue lapping at her clit even faster as she moans and squeals at the feeling, legs nearly giving out beneath her. Opening his eyes, he gazes up at her, enthralled by the sight of her moaning and squirming at the feeling of his tongue pleasuring her, her screams of his name drowning out the noise from the shower water. A string of incomprehensible curse words mixed in with breathless cries of his name fall from her lips as he sucks on her clit, gazing up at her as he does so.

“Gabriel!” Enjolras winces when Éponine pulls hard at his hair as she unravels at the seams, screaming out his name as she rolls her hips against his face, riding out the waves of her blinding orgasm and moaning out his name, her head falling back against the wall. He doesn’t stop until she goes completely still and that’s when he gets to his feet, gazing at her as her eyes slowly flutter open.

“Fuck…” She lets out a breathless laugh upon seeing him just gazing at her like that, straightening up. “Gabriel, that was fucking amazing.” Her eyes rake over his body, her gaze travelling down to his hardened length, and she smirks, looking back up to gaze into his darkened blue eyes, pupils blown. “Go ahead,” she tells him breathlessly.

She lets out a gasp when he enters her with one swift movement, plunging deep inside her and propping her up against the wall. She’s never had sex in the shower before—it’s slippery and wet and her legs finally give out beneath her. Enjolras’ large hands grasp her thighs as he holds her up against the wall, pounding into her and evoking loud moans, Éponine’s head falling on the crook of his shoulder as he rolls his hips against hers, her legs wrapping around his waist and bringing him closer to her.

“Gabriel…” Éponine whimpers, squealing when he brushes her clit and burying her face in the crook of his neck, fingers wound into his soaked hair once again. Enjolras lets out a low, strangled groan at the feeling of her warmth around him, picking up the pace and roughly thrusting into her as she lets out a scream at the feeling of him moving inside her. She forgets how to speak, doesn’t know how, at the feeling of being filled, her hands moving to his back, the building pressure in her navel robbing her lungs of air as he furiously pounds into her, his groans of her name echoing in her ear.

“Fuck, ’Ponine…” Enjolras lets out a choked cry as he picks up the pace even more, making her scream at the feeling of his cock plunging deep inside her, grinding against her walls and bringing her closer to the edge. She frantically tries to rock her hips against his, desperate for more friction, as he pins her to the wall, his breathing harsh and ragged as he sends her spiralling, closer to complete and utter perfection.

Éponine cries out at the feeling, blinding pleasure racing through her body as the pressure to release grows ever stronger, Enjolras pounding into her at a frenzied pace, their rhythm growing more frantic by the moment. He adjusts the angle slightly, driving deeper into her, and she screams at the sensation, desperate for release as he brushes her clit, making her shriek. She buries her face in his shoulder, sinking her teeth into the crook of his neck, and he slams into her _hard_ , hitting the _perfect_ spot, and she screams out his name, forgetting how to breathe.

She comes fast and hard, mewling loudly as she rakes her nails down his back, blinded by the force of her orgasm and screaming his name. His thrusts grow more erratic and uncontrolled at the feeling of her pulsing around him and her sharp nails digging harshly into his back before he completely loses control, spilling into her with a strangled growl, moaning out her name as he comes inside her, the only thing on his mind being her whispered moans of his name, repeated like a prayer in his ear, as he comes to his end with a groan.

“Gabriel…” Éponine whimpers at the loss of warmth when Enjolras pulls out of her with a squelching sound, gently setting her down on the slippery tiled floor once again, and she grabs on to him when she stumbles, legs trembling. She’s absolutely certain now that she’ll be walking all funny for the rest of the day, and she lets out a long, contented sigh, looking up to gaze into his eyes. “What the fuck was that? Christ, that was amazing.”

She can feel his cum starting to trickle down her leg but couldn’t give two shits about it, standing on tiptoe as her arms snake around his neck and leaning in to capture his lips in a passionate kiss. He’s quick to kiss her back, arms around her waist as he pulls her flush against him, kissing her fervently and sighing against her lips when she smiles into the kiss, hands moving up into his dampened hair and tugging at it slightly.

“You’re amazing,” Enjolras whispers against her lips, and Éponine feels her cheeks flame red.

She’s probably going to be walking around all day with his gunk dripping out of her, but fuck it, she’s getting some and she’s not going to let go of that fact anytime soon, not when she’s being thoroughly fucked on a regular basis by who might possibly be the most perfect man in all of Chicago, if not the States, and she loses herself in the kiss, unable to shake off the strange, fluttering feeling she’s getting in her stomach as he kisses her tenderly, the world around them falling away.


	9. part ix

“How are things with you and Éponine?”

Enjolras turns his head upon hearing Combeferre’s words, biting down on his lip. They’re sitting in the café of a Barnes & Noble, Enjolras sipping on a cappuccino as Combeferre reads _Pride and Prejudice_ , a plate of enormous chocolate chip cookies on the table before them. The rainy weather has persisted over the past week, though Enjolras doesn’t mind much, especially after he found out how Éponine adores rainstorms, having stated that it’s her favourite kind of weather.

Éponine.

She’s all he’s been thinking about in this past week.

No, that’s not exactly true—she crosses his mind fairly often, yes, but he’s been trying to focus on work as well when he isn’t off screwing her somewhere. Even still, he can’t stop thinking about her. She’s constantly on his mind—the way she she can make him lose his breath with a single dimpled smile, how she never fails to bring a smile to his face whenever she goes off on one of her tirades about whatever’s bugging her on that particular day, the way her entire face lights up whenever they’re flipping through channels together and Brooklyn Nine-Nine is on TV…

Is this what it feels like to be in love?

He’s been growing more and more aware of his feelings over the past several days, becoming more and more conscious of how he’s actually falling in love with Éponine and how nothing but disaster could possibly result from this. For one, she’s the most cynical person Enjolras has ever met, and he’s known Grantaire for a long time—he doesn’t think he’s ever met someone who’s so staunchly against the mere _idea_ of love like Éponine is. As he’s found out from their late-night pillow talk during their nights spent together, she’s vowed to never let herself fall in love again after falling out with her now-ex girlfriend two years ago, never wanting to get hurt like that again, and as much as it pains Enjolras to do so, he’s going to respect her wishes and try to conceal his feelings as best as he can in the hopes that they’ll die on their own.

“Enjolras. Enjolras! Earth to Enjolras.” He snaps out of it, looking up to stare at Combeferre, looking like a deer caught in headlights. Combeferre sighs, marking his page with a bookmark and setting it down on the table.

“How have things been with Éponine?” he repeats slowly, and Enjolras is irked at how Combeferre seems to be talking to him the way he would probably talk to a short-tempered toddler.

“Good, I guess.” Enjolras avoids eye contact, picking up his cappuccino and taking a sip.

Combeferre raises an eyebrow at Enjolras’ words. “You guess?”

Enjolras sighs. “I think—no.” There’s no going back now. He’s fallen hopelessly, madly in love with Éponine and he can’t do shit about it now except unhealthily repress his feelings and hope they’ll go away in their own time. “I’m in love with her.”

Combeferre’s eyes widen for about a millisecond before they return to normal, and once they do, Enjolras notices the strange look on Combeferre’s face. After some time, the bespectacled man hums slightly, shoulders relaxing. “I should have known. I knew this was going to happen.”

“But I need to forget about my feelings and fall out of love with her because there is no way she and I would ever work,” Enjolras adds, deflating slightly in his seat upon admitting it out loud to himself. “She’s too afraid of relationships and commitment, and given her past, I honestly don’t blame her.”

Combeferre falls silent for some time before he says quietly, “You know what I think?”

Enjolras turns his head to stare at him. “Not really, no.”

“I think she loves you too,” Combeferre states matter-of-factly, reaching over to take a cookie and bringing it to his mouth to take a bite out of it, “but she’s just too afraid to admit it.”

Enjolras’ brow furrows at Combeferre’s words as he considers it for several moments before he says, “No. That can’t be it. For one thing, she hates the idea of love. You should’ve heard her rant on and on about how awful romcoms are.” He laughs to himself, smiling at the memory. “She’d probably rather die than fall in love again. I don’t think I’ve ever met a person as cynical as her.”

It’s just his luck that he just _had_ to go and fall for the one person who swears she’s never going to fall in love again instead of someone out of the endless array of people who’d do anything for him to give them the time of day, even if only for a fleeting moment. Maybe his life really is one giant cliché.

“Sometimes people are afraid of things they’re unfamiliar with,” Combeferre points out. “Maybe she’s just afraid to put herself out there.”

“She’s scared of getting hurt, ’Ferre,” Enjolras corrects him. “She’s been hurt too many times in the past by so many people, including her own parents, and I don’t want to be the next person on that list.”

“But I think you’d be good for each other,” Combeferre insists. “No—I _know_ you’d be good for each other. I’ve seen the way she looks at you sometimes. She really appreciates having you as a friend, Enjolras. Even if she doesn’t say it, she appreciates it. If you love someone, you should tell them, you know.”

“But she doesn’t want anything more than this friends-with-benefits arrangement,” Enjolras points out. “I’m going to respect that. I’ll just wait for these feelings to go away on their own. It can’t be that hard, right? It happened with Feuilly.”

A look of concern crosses Combeferre’s face before it returns to indifference, seeing how Enjolras seems to have already made up his mind about this whole mess. If he’s predicted things correctly, though, the golden-haired man will be singing a _very_ different tune when the right time comes.

* * *

“So my job interview is tomorrow,” Éponine murmurs as she slowly, lazily rolls her hips against Enjolras’, maintaining a steady rhythm as she sits in his lap on his couch, the both of them stark naked. She throws her head back and lets out a moan when he leans in to press his lips to her neck, pressing hungry kisses to the sensitive skin as she sits in his lap, moving up and down along his length and letting out soft moans at the feeling of his cock filling her.

Enjolras draws back, rather red-faced as his blue eyes find her brown. “Good luck,” he tells her, completely sincere, blue eyes sparkling.

Éponine smiles, putting her arms around his neck and ignoring how he’s been looking a lot nicer than usual lately, and that’s saying something, since he always looks perfect. “Thanks. I’m going to need it.” The tender look in her eyes is quick to turn vulgar and she looks at him through narrowed eyes, whispering, “Now shut up and fuck me.”

Ten minutes later, they’re pulling their clothes back on—or their underwear and shirts, at the very least—and disposing of the condom in the nearest garbage can before collapsing together on the couch, Éponine snuggling into Enjolras as he turns on _The Empire Strikes Back_ for the both of them. She doesn’t even think twice, curling into him as if by instinct, and it’s only until twenty minutes later when she realises how weirdly intimate and almost _domestic_ this all is, with Enjolras’ arm around her holding her close and her head resting against his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat. She’s curled up in his arms, hair in disarray and a tiny smile on her face at the comforting sound of his heartbeat against her ear, their gazes fixed on the TV screen.

“What should we watch after this?” Enjolras murmurs, absently twisting a lock of Éponine’s hair around his finger.

Éponine looks up at him with a brazen grin on her face. “ _Friends with Benefits_?” she suggests saucily, phrasing it like a question and laughing like a madwoman when Enjolras’ cheeks flame red at such a suggestion. “I guess that’s a no from you.”

She thinks back to the past month, recalling how she met him at the bar a mere month ago and how that resulted in a month of frequent, constant sex whenever they get the chance for it, and she’s pretty sure that they’ve christened, as she likes to call it, much of Enjolras’ furniture in his apartment at this point, having fucked on his kitchen counter, on his dinner table, on countless walls, on the couch, in a plush armchair by the window, in his shower, on top of his washing machine while it was running, of course in his bed, and Lord knows where else. She can’t even remember all the people she’s had sex with before Enjolras came along, sweeping her off her feet, quite literally, and never failing to provide her with a good hard fuck. He’s etched himself into her mind, whether she wants to admit it or not.

Éponine looks up at Enjolras, leaning in to press a kiss to his neck. “This is really nice, Gabriel,” she whispers, her voice rather hoarse as she trails one hand along his chest, tracing his abs through the shirt he has on and smirking at how his breath hitches. “This is…” She sighs, her head falling back against his chest as her hand continues to trail down, pleasantly surprised to find that look, he’s already growing harder by the moment. “Is this okay? Do you like this?” she whispers, looking up at him.

Enjolras tears his gaze away from the TV screen to look down at Éponine through darkened blue eyes, swallowing hard and finding that his throat’s gone dry. “Y-yes,” he stammers out, losing his breath when she begins to toy with his erection through his boxers, squeezing and stroking it through his pants as he struggles not to lose it right then and there. Éponine gives him that naughty smirk that drives him absolutely _insane_ as she moves to kneel before him on the floor, Enjolras sitting at the edge of the couch as she settles between his legs and pulls his boxers down just slightly, seeming thoroughly pleased at the sight of his thick, swollen length before her eyes, and she gets to work.

Enjolras’ head falls back against the couch cushions and he lets out a long, strangled moan when Éponine’s tongue runs up his shaft, teasing him as she strokes his balls and sucks the precum off the tip before she takes all of him into her mouth, moaning as she does so and fighting her gag reflex, rewarded by the sound of his strangled groans and choked moans. She begins to suck, stroking his balls and running her tongue up and down his shaft, humming and moaning and making him lose his damn mind.

“God, Éponine…” Enjolras’ hands move down to grasp her hair, moaning loudly at the sensation of the vibrations in her throat from her hums, struggling not to burst right then and there. Fighting for breath, his breathing harsh and erratic, he looks down at Éponine, who’s gazing up at him with the most innocent look in her eyes as she effortlessly deep-throats him, sucking him off like it’s nobody’s business and sending him spiralling, getting closer to the edge as she makes good use of humming and moaning, watching him as he struggles to keep it together, red in the face and panting heavily. The sound of his moans are enough to cancel out the discomfort, and Éponine persists, her throat constricting around his cock every now and then as she hums and moans, stroking his balls with one hand and reaching into her panties with the other, beginning to stroke herself to wetness.

“ _Éponine…_ ” Enjolras throws his head back and groans at the absolutely heavenly feeling of her sucking him off, plump lips wrapped around his cock, and he’s spiralling, skirting closer towards that edge of paradise, the vibrations in her throat making it harder to keep himself together. He looks back down at her, breathing ragged, and she’s still gazing up at him intently, the two of them maintaining eye contact as he stiffens, his thigh muscles tightening and the building pressure in his cock growing out of control, nearly blinded by the pressure to release.

“’Ponine, I’m—I’m going to—” Enjolras lets out a strangled moan, transfixed by the sight of Éponine bobbing her head up and down between his legs, taunting him and telling him to lose all control. One more glimpse of the absolutely vulgar look in her eyes, and his mind snaps.

Enjolras’ head falls back against the couch cushions, his fingers twisting into Éponine’s hair as he spasms and comes _hard_ with a low, strangled growl, moaning her name repeatedly as she slurps up the mess he’s leaving in her mouth, his hot cum trickling down her throat and making her moan contentedly at the taste. It’s _amazing_ , the feeling he gets from her swallowing everything, and his chest rises and falls with heavy, harsh breaths as she detaches herself from him with a pop and pulls his pants back up for him, going back to sit beside him on the couch and watching with a little smirk on her face as he recovers from his intense climax.

“You liked it?” she whispers when he finally opens his eyes, blue meeting brown.

“God, yes,” he replies breathlessly, still trying to catch his breath. Éponine bites her lip and gives him a dimpled smile, startling slightly when Enjolras moves to kneel before her, the two of them switching places.

“Gabriel, what—” Her breath catches in her throat when he gently pries her legs open, his fingers toying with the waistband of her lacy panties. “What are you doing?”

“May I return the favour?” he requests, alluring as ever, gazing up at her with tenderness and something else she can’t quite name in his bright blue eyes.

Éponine nods slowly, letting out a moan when Enjolras’ hand slips past the waistband of her panties and his fingers gently stroke her folds, heat gathering between her legs as he does so. “Gabriel…”

“Shhhhhh…” Enjolras presses a kiss to the inside of her thigh, so close to where she needs him most, and she lets out a long, shaky moan as he croons, “Just relax…”


	10. part x

“So how was the job interview?” Grantaire asks as Éponine comes trudging back into the apartment, throwing off her black suit jacket and kicking off those damned four-inch heels with a grunt, disposing of her purse on the nearest armchair. She quickly unbuttons her white button-up shirt and is quick to dispose of it, leaving her in just her pale blue tank top and her black pencil skirt. Going over to grab a pair of navy blue drawstring shorts from her suitcase, she wriggles out of the skirt and replaces it with her shorts before going over to plop down beside Grantaire on the futon with a sigh.

“I think it went well!” she replies cheerfully, grabbing the bottle of beer Grantaire offers her and grabbing the bottle opener off the coffee table to pop the cap off. Taking a grateful swig, she shivers when the beer sets fire to her insides, leaning back and making herself comfortable on the folded-up futon. “Fuck, my feet are fucking killing me. I’m never wearing heels for that long of a time again.”

“When will you know if you’ve gotten the job?” Grantaire asks, going on Netflix and immediately choosing _One Day at a Time_ , going back to the first episode.

“I’m not sure,” Éponine admits, settling down, intent on just bingeing _One Day at a Time_ for the rest of the day. “Hopefully in a few weeks or so.”

Grantaire turns his head to smirk at her, saying, “Aren’t you glad now that I introduced you to Enjy a month ago?”

Éponine feels herself tense up at the mention of the man.

Enjolras.

Her Gabriel.

She’s always been such a guarded person, closing herself off from nearly everybody she meets until she first met Enjolras. She recalls the way they hit it off almost immediately upon meeting at the bar a month ago—was that really only a month ago? It feels like she’s known Enjolras forever. He’s the first person who isn’t her siblings or Grantaire that she’s really opened up to, entrusting him with her secrets without so much as a second thought. It’s strange, especially with how she’s always so doubtful of people and their motives when first meeting them, and yet she just got that vibe from Enjolras, having thought that he’s one to trust from the moment she met him.

“Ep? Ep. Earth to Éponine.” She’s quick to be brought out of her trance, dark eyes wide as she turns to glance at Grantaire. He has an odd look on his face, asking, “What are you thinking about?”

Éponine can’t help but smile to herself, taking another sip of beer as she murmurs, “Just thinking about Gabriel.” She soon realises what she just let slip, eyes widening in slight horror as she amends hastily, “I mean, thank you, R, I really am glad you introduced me to him. He’s been so great.”

Grantaire doesn’t fail to pick up on what Éponine just accidentally said before she hastily corrected herself, his brow furrowing at her words. “You’re into him, aren’t you?”

“No, I’m not,” Éponine replies automatically. It’s become her default answer whenever anyone asks if there’s anything more going on between her and Enjolras.

“Yeah, you are,” Grantaire contradicts. “You literally just fucking said you were thinking about him. Should I quote your words verbatim?”

Éponine winces, shaking her head. “No.”

“Like I’ve said so many times before, Ep, you would never have let this go on for as long as it has if you considered this to be just another fling,” Grantaire reminds her. “You’ve gone out on _dates_ with him, for fuck’s sake! You never would’ve agreed to going on dates if you just considered this to be another friends-with-benefits arrangement! You’re into him and he’s clearly into you, so why don’t you just get together already?”

“He doesn’t like me like that,” Éponine insists, voice dangerously low and even. “And besides, even if he did, I’m not good enough for him. All I’m good for is a quick fuck and nothing more.”

Grantaire falls silent at her words. “Who the fuck told you that?” he asks slowly, his voice quiet.

“Montparnasse,” Éponine replies bitterly, her good mood having vanished as she curls into herself. “One of my exes.”

“Well, he’s a fucking asshole!” Éponine looks up upon hearing Grantaire’s angry declaration, rather alarmed to see how his face has gone red with fury. “Éponine, you’re so much more than that. When did you break up with him?”

“Six years ago,” Éponine mumbles, hugging her knees to her chest.

“Well, why the fuck are you still taking his words to heart?!” Grantaire bursts out, looking as if he’s about to explode. “It’s been six goddamn years, Éponine!”

“A person doesn’t just forget something like that!” Éponine shoots back, and to her chagrin, she feels tears begin to sting her eyes and furiously blinks them away. “It hurt, all right?! It still hurts! I’m still trying to get over it even after six years, I’m still trying to get over all the shit he did to me while we were dating! And then I made the mistake of falling for those girls after him and then they went and fucked me up too! Can you fucking blame me for being scared of something serious happening with Gabriel?!”

She lets out a gasp once the words are out of her mouth, eyes widening as she realises that that’s what she’s been feeling all along—she’s _scared_. She’s afraid of her and Enjolras falling apart, she’s fucking _terrified_ of losing him when he’s come to mean so much to her. Speechless, she slumps down in her seat, trying to pick apart her thoughts to process them one by one, a blank look on her face. Grantaire’s fallen silent as well, shocked by her outburst.

After ten minutes or so, Éponine gets up. “I need a nap,” she announces quietly, grabbing a knit blanket off the nearby armchair and wrapping herself in it. “Can I use your bed?”

“Go ahead,” Grantaire replies, unable to find it in himself to protest. He watches as she trudges off to his bedroom without another word, disappearing into the room and slamming the door behind her.

Once she’s behind closed doors, Éponine wonders when exactly she started thinking of Enjolras as “my Gabriel”.

* * *

Éponine doesn’t quite forget about her outburst after coming home from her job interview to Grantaire’s place, but she goes on with her life as if nothing’s changed as best as she can, still hanging out often with Enjolras and frequently fucking him whenever she gets the chance to—in his car in a Target parking lot, in his bathtub after she managed to seduce him with a Lush bath bomb and her naked self standing there in his bathroom, even in his building’s 24-hour laundromat at one in the morning. She’s mostly just anxious about hearing back from her job interview, wondering day and night if she got the job. Enjolras has been completely supportive and she realises just how grateful she is for him, especially since he’s the one who got her the job interview in the first place.

Meanwhile, Enjolras is trying desperately to hide his growing feelings for her, finding them harder and harder to stifle as time goes by. Nevertheless, he tones them down as best as he can for her sake, knowing that she’s not looking for anything serious and is just in it for the sex and his friendship. He’s going to respect that, no matter how much it kills him inside. Being her friend is more than enough for him, even if his heart says otherwise.

Neither of them want to think about how at one point, this arrangement is going to have to end.


	11. part xi

Enjolras sits in the armchair by the window in his apartment, the sun beginning to make its descent into darkness in the distance, rereading the fifth Harry Potter book for what feels like the millionth time. It’s been about three weeks after Éponine’s job interview and she still hasn’t alerted him of any news, and he knows she’s beginning to lose hope despite his constant reassurance that she’ll get the job. There’s just something about her, and he _knows_ she’s going to get it.

Absorbed in Harry Potter, he almost doesn’t notice his phone buzzing from the little round table before him.

Reaching forward to pick it up, he sees from the caller ID that it’s Éponine, and that’s enough to make him forget everything else and pick up the phone as he places the book on the table, sitting precariously towards the edge. He gets to his feet, beginning to pace the room. “Hello?”

_“I’m at your place, I’m coming upstairs as I speak,”_ Éponine replies, and there’s definite happiness in her voice, making Enjolras’ heart rate rise. _“Getting closer now! Getting out of the elevator.”_ Enjolras heads towards the door just as Éponine announces, _“I’m at your door, pretty boy, open up!”_

She hangs up and Enjolras tucks his phone into his pocket, opening the door and bracing himself as Éponine comes barrelling in and jumps up on him, hooking her legs around his waist as he staggers back.

“I got the job!” she squeals in delight, nearly knocking him off his feet as his arms move to tightly wrap around her so she won’t fall. Enjolras’ blue eyes widen when she pulls back to gaze into his eyes, a dazzling grin absolutely dominating her face and bringing out those gorgeous dimples as she cradles his face in her hands.

“Are you serious?” he asks, unaware of how he’s holding his breath. Éponine nods breathlessly.

“Thank you so much, Gabriel,” she whispers, her brown eyes sparkling with utmost happiness as they gaze into his blue. Whatever words he has for her die in his throat when she leans in and presses her lips to his, kissing him tenderly in her best attempt to convey her full gratitude, and he’s kissing her back, his arms propping her up and her legs wrapped around his waist as she kisses him, unable to keep herself from grinning into the kiss.

Knowing that this may very well backfire and he could end up possibly breaking a bone, Enjolras begins to blindly walk backwards, not stopping until he hits the armrest of his couch, and then he’s tumbling backwards and falling onto the couch cushions as Éponine lands on top of him with a delighted shriek. The two of them break apart, Éponine breathing heavily as she gazes into his eyes, her dark hair swept to one side.

“Seriously, Gabriel,” she breathes out, her eyes having gone soft. “I can’t thank you enough.”

Enjolras smiles back at her, blue eyes crinkled. “I’m just happy you got it.”

Éponine giggles and leans in to kiss him again, lying on top of him and kissing him passionately, her hands moving to tangle her fingers in his hair as his large hands trace the curve of her spine through her tank top. His hand begins to toy with the waistband of her leggings and she lets out a soft, barely audible moan as heat pools between her thighs at the feeling of his bulge rubbing up against her. She kisses him harder still, moaning into his mouth as one of his hands slides up her tank top and the other begins to tug on her leggings’ waistband, and she abruptly pulls away, eyes darkened with lust as they gaze into his.

“Bedroom?” she whispers.

Enjolras nods. “Yes, let’s go.”

The two of them are soon scrambling to their feet and rushing to the bedroom together, Éponine not missing the chance to pull Enjolras into bed at the first chance she gets, him landing on top of her this time. She can feel through his sweatpants how he’s already hard and lets out a moan when he leans in to capture her lips in a kiss once again, her moans muffled by his mouth. He groans at the tight feeling in his pants as she hooks her legs around his waist once again, bringing him closer to her as her hands move up into his hair and tightly grasp his golden curls as he rolls his hips against hers once, evoking a high-pitched moan. He kisses her hard, passionate and feverish, feeling all the blood in his head go south as her tongue slips past his lips and into his open mouth while his does the same with hers, wrinkling the red sheets beneath them as he presses her into the bed.

Breaking away from her, his blue eyes find her brown in an instant and he whispers hoarsely, “Are you sure?”

Éponine nods vigorously and doesn’t hesitate to pull him back into the kiss, her hands trailing down his back and beginning to tug at the hem of his T-shirt, rather desperate to get it off. Enjolras quickly gets the hint, breaking away from her for the briefest of times to hastily tug his shirt over his forehead, leaving him shirtless, before he returns to kissing her fiercely, making her let out a moan into his mouth as her hands begin to undo the drawstring of his sweatpants. Her legs fall to the bed once again, unwrapping from around his waist, and he pulls away to allow her a moment to pull her tank top off and toss it out of sight before she pulls her leggings down and kicks them off the bed. A little smile on her face, she pulls him back into the kiss, her tongue delving into his mouth and evoking a low moan from the golden-haired man as she tugs his sweatpants down.

Enjolras draws back for a moment and he can’t help but smile at the sight of her—she’s here with him, in his bed, her hair fanning out against the sheets and her dark eyes sparkling. He leans down to trail kisses up her jaw, nibbling at her earlobe a bit before he moves on to her neck, Éponine grasping at his hair, short gasps and high-pitched moans falling from her lips as he presses hard kisses to her neck, leaving bright red marks here and there and making her squeal from the sensation. She throws her head back and moans, the ache between her legs begging to be relieved as he trails kisses down to her cleavage, looking up at her just to make sure.

“Go ahead,” Éponine tells him, completely breathless, and Enjolras doesn’t hesitate to reach around and unclasp her bra, taking it off and tossing it aside.

She feels fire pool in her navel when his fingers tweak one of her hardened nipples, throwing her head back and letting out a long, shaky moan at the sensations his fingers send racing through her body. She gasps when his mouth soon follows suit, his tongue swirling around her nipple and gently sucking at it as his hand caresses her other breast, gently fondling it as he sucks at her breast, her head falling back against the sheets. “Gabriel,” she whispers, gasping once again when he switches, alternating between breasts. “Oh, _Gabriel_ …”

He hums, his large hand tracing the curve of her hip and moving closer to where she wants him most, where she _needs_ him most, and a particularly loud moan falls from her lips when he finally cuts to the chase and pulls her panties off, leaving her naked, before he goes to stroke her folds and chuckles against her chest at how wet she is. He detaches himself from her breast to gaze up at her adoringly, watching as she closes her eyes and lets out a shaky moan before it’s turned into a gasp when he allows two fingers to delve into her folds, sheathing his fingers inside her and beginning to stroke her centre, setting fire to her insides and making her squeal.

“ _Oooooh…_ ”

Enjolras draws back to watch Éponine as she writhes and squirms against the sheets, mesmerised by how she’s falling apart at the seams from entirely his touch, his fingers pumping and scissoring inside her and stroking her most sensitive spots, sliding in and out, moving every which way, delving and weaving inside her as she lets out a loud gasp. She’s grasping at the sheets for lack of a better grip, the fabric bunched in her fists as she bucks her hips against his hand, wriggling and squealing at the feeling of him working two fingers between her legs. She’s _intoxicating_.

“Gabriel, faster,” she begs, and he doesn’t hesitate, speeding up and making her scream as he pumps faster in her, his thumb brushing her clit and eliciting a surprised gasp. He rubs circles into her clit as he works two fingers inside her and her grip on the sheets grow even tighter as she skirts towards the edge, pressure building in her navel and blinding her.

“Like this?” Enjolras asks softly, watching as her eyes open and she lifts her head up for a brief second.

“Yes, just like that,” Éponine pants in reply, throwing her head back once again as her eyes roll back in her head, eyes fluttering shut and a scream escaping her lips when he continues, long fingers delving deep inside and making her see stars.

And then he hits a golden spot that makes bright white spots of light dance behind her eyes and she screams, losing all control and losing all feeling in her legs, growing weak. She lets out a shriek of his name, writhing and wriggling on the bed while he persists even as she clenches around his fingers and comes with a fierce cry, coating his fingers in her juices. She’s twitching and shuddering from the force of her orgasm by the time he pulls his fingers out of her, bringing them to his lips to suck off her fluids before he leans down as she opens her eyes, breathing heavily as she comes down from her high.

“Fuck…” she breathes out, giggling slightly when she catches him gazing at her. Her hand going down to his boxers, she tugs insistently at the hem, whispering, “Gabriel, I need you inside me.”

Enjolras nods breathlessly, letting Éponine tug his boxers off before he reaches over to grab a condom from his drawer, one of those ribbed ones he’s long since found out Éponine loves, and he hands the package to her, watching as she smiles up at him and tears the wrapper open before rolling the condom over his length, making him groan from deep in his throat at the feeling of her small hands brushing against his shaft. Before aligning himself with her opening, he whispers, “Move up a bit.”

Éponine gives him a bewildered little smile, confused. “Why?”

“Pillows,” Enjolras replies simply.

Éponine does as she’s told and moves up until her head is resting against the pillows and that’s when Enjolras finally buries himself inside her with a single thrust, and she gasps at the feeling of him filling her while he lets out a strangled groan as her warmth engulfs him. The both of them heavily breathing by the time he’s buried to the hilt inside her, he begins to move, thrusting into her at a firm, steady pace and she moans at the feeling, squealing when he buries his face in her neck and presses a kiss to it. He kisses her neck as he picks up the pace, thrusting into her as one of his hands finds its way into hers, lacing their fingers together. Éponine throws her head back against the pillows and lets out a loud moan as he picks up the pace, rhythmically rolling his hips against hers as she tries and fails to hook her legs around his waist a few times before finally succeeding, their hands still clasped tight against the sheets as his other hand grasps her thigh.

Enjolras draws back, eyes closed as his hips rock against hers at a hypnotising pace, groaning her name, and he opens his eyes, seeing that she’s biting her lip and mewling at the feeling of him moving inside her, her face flushed. He keeps going at that pace and Éponine opens her eyes, brown finding blue, and they widen as she realises how slow and gentle and intensely _intimate_ this has all become, the hands on her having gone tender, and it’s worlds away from their usual hot, steamy, fast sex they’ve been having in the past two months or so. She keeps her eyes locked with his as she moves with him, and her breath catches in her throat.

This isn’t simply fucking anymore, it’s goddamn _intimacy_.

They’re _making love_.

They sustain eye contact and Enjolras _knows_ that the look in his blue eyes is bare and obvious, all of his feelings for her on display in his eyes for her to see, and he stops just as she freezes up, squeezing his eyes shut and internally cursing himself out for what he just let slip. He’s not even supposed to be feeling this way in the first place; Éponine clearly isn’t looking for anything more than just sex and friendship and he’s gone against her wishes and his own, knowing he isn’t allowed to feel like this and groaning internally at how he’s probably gone and pressured her into giving more than what she originally offered from that one look alone.

Éponine is completely baffled as Enjolras screws his eyes shut, shaken to the core by what she just saw in his eyes. Nobody’s ever looked at her like that before, not during sex, not during _anything_. She’s stunned beyond belief, frozen in place, and thinks back to everything Grantaire has said about Enjolras clearly having feelings for her. She’s been so determined, so hell-bent on not falling in love with Enjolras, so fucking terrified of what could possibly happen if she allowed herself to do so, deathly afraid of emotional entanglement, and she realises now that it’s too late.

She’s in love with him.

Despite what her mind has been screaming at her for quite a while now, she’s gone against what she thought to be her better judgment and fallen in love with him.

“Gabriel?” she whispers at last, timid, her throat having gone dry.

Enjolras opens his eyes, blue meeting brown, and Éponine thinks she sees terror flash through his eyes. “Yes?”

“Go on,” she urges in a whisper, giving his hand a squeeze after realising that their hands are still tightly intertwined. “Keep going.”

Enjolras does as he’s told, picking up where he left off and drawing a pleasured sigh from Éponine before it turns into a squeal as they move with each other, moving together as if they’re one and the same, and God, she may have told him that she likes it rough during their first night together, but this— _this_ is so much better than anything they’ve ever experienced together, slow and gentle and passionate, and she mewls at the feeling, barely able to resist a squeal when he reaches between them to softly brush her clit, rubbing circles into it and making her moan.

“Don’t let go,” she whispers, grasping his hand even tighter as the other moves to the back of his head, fingers tangling in his curls and bringing his face closer to hers, her lips capturing his in a passionate kiss as he slowly but steadily begins to pick up the pace, brushing her clit with each hypnotising thrust of his hips. The feeling of him moving in her like that becomes almost too much to bear, his fingers brushing her clit every now and then, and she’s soon skirting towards the edge of paradise, spiralling, her moans growing louder by the moment as she whispers his name in his ear, repeating it like a prayer, and in a way, it is.

“Gabriel—” A gasp replaces whatever words she was about to say next as he reaches between them to squeeze her clit and she unravels at the seams, coming with a squeal of his name and clenching around him, squeezing him like a vice and bringing him to his own end. He loses control with a groan, going limp on top of her as he comes with a choked moan of her name.

Once he’s pulled out of her and they’ve disposed of the condom, she lets him take her into his arms as they lie together in bed under the sheets, Éponine acting as the little spoon to Enjolras’ big spoon. His arms are wrapped around her and she can’t think of anyplace better to be, only now coming to terms with just how hard she’s fallen for him as they’re lying in bed in each other’s arms. He’s managed to break through her walls in under two months, and she’s amazed that he actually succeeded in doing so, succeeded in making her fall for him as well, and as they’re succumbing to sleep’s sweet embrace, nearly dozing off completely, the tiniest hint of a smile is on her face as she whispers without thinking, “I love you.”

Enjolras’ blue eyes widen at her words, but he says nothing.

They soon drift off to sleep in each other’s arms.


	12. part xii

Éponine wakes to late-morning sunlight streaming in through the cracks in the curtains and finds that she’s still in Enjolras’ bed, still wrapped up in his arms, and she closes her eyes again, wanting to stay in this moment for as long as possible. She feels her heart sink in her chest at the thought that maybe she’ll never get to wake up like this again. Maybe telling him she loves him last night was a mistake on her part, especially since he never said anything in response.

She shifts, slowly so not to wake him, and gazes up at his face, observing every single detail of his sleeping form—how his eyelashes flutter every now and then, how his face is less lined, more relaxed as he sleeps, how he has what looks like the smallest smile on his face, his breathing calm and steady—and she can’t help but smile at the sight.

God, he’s beautiful.

Éponine startles slightly when Enjolras’ blue eyes slowly flutter open to see her lying there gazing at him, and he smiles at the sight of her, reaching up to trace her jaw with his thumb and brush some stray hairs out of her face, tucking them behind her ear.

Jesus, this is all so fucking _domestic_.

“Good morning,” he murmurs.

“Morning,” she breathes out in reply, knowing they’ll have to talk about what happened last night sooner or later, and honestly, if she’s going to get her heart broken, she’d rather it happened sooner rather than later. “So… about last night—”

“’Ponine.” Enjolras cuts her off, the gentleness on his face being replaced by apprehension. “It just—you were just caught up in the moment, weren’t you? Post-sex haze and all. All that oxytocin…” He chuckles nervously. She probably has no fucking idea what he’s going on about. “You—you didn’t mean it.” He sounds more like he’s trying to convince himself than he is with her.

Éponine can’t help but feel a little stung by him assuming things but she manages to stay calm, replying softly, “No, I meant it.” There’s no going back now—she takes a deep breath, whispering, “I love you, Gabriel.”

Enjolras’ blue eyes widen and he feels like his heart could burst at her heartfelt confession, and he’s quick to respond, murmuring in reply, “Well, then, I—” He clears his throat, not wanting to be an absolute fucking mess the first time he admits his love for her. “I love you, too.”

The dimpled smile that his words evoke from Éponine looks like it could split her face in half and makes his heart soar, and she leans in to kiss him, sighing the moment his lips meet hers and bringing her hand up to his face to cup his jaw, toying with some stray curls. It’s tender and sweet, unlike anything they’ve ever done together before, and in that moment, she feels like the luckiest woman alive, deepening the kiss and moaning against his lips before they break apart, all too soon.

“So what are we now?” Enjolras asks in a whisper.

Éponine brushes some of his curls out of his face, smiling softly at him. “We’ve been pretty exclusive already these past couple of months. I don’t see why that has to change.” Leaning in to kiss his nose, she suggests quietly, “Why don’t we add boyfriend and girlfriend to the mix?”

Enjolras smiles wide and it brings out his eye crinkles, blue eyes shining with pure, unadulterated joy as they gaze into Éponine’s brown. “I’d like that.”

“Then it’s official then,” Éponine murmurs, giving him that adorable grin he’s fallen in love with. “We’re together.” She sighs and leans into him, laying her head on his chest and listening to his heartbeat as she whispers, “My heart’s in your hands now. Please don’t break it.” She doesn’t want him to be just another name on her list of people who’ve broken her heart.

Enjolras wraps his arms around her and pulls her close, assuring her in a whisper, “I won’t. I promise.”

* * *

“I know I said I wasn’t going to say I told you so,” Grantaire begins, pausing to take a shot before he slams the glass back on the counter and fixes Éponine and Enjolras with a saucy look in his eyes, smirking at them as he says smugly, “but I told you so.”

They’re at the bar once more, the bar where everything began, and Éponine laughs, taking a sip of her whiskey as she shakes her head at Grantaire’s words. It’s been a week since she and Enjolras first got together and they’ve decided to get together at the bar for a Friday night out, celebrating Éponine’s first week at her new job. Enjolras’ arm is around her waist and she leans into him, looking up at him and smiling. Even if she’s still cautious about relationships, she’s learning to overcome her fear, however slowly it may be. Enjolras doesn’t mind; he’s helping her slowly, slowly get past her fear of relationships and commitment, knowing it’ll all pay off in the end.

“Okay, fine, you win this one,” Éponine relents, raising her glass of whiskey to clink it against Grantaire’s tequila. “You were right after all.”

Grantaire smirks, smug as ever, and chugs the rest of his tequila before setting it down on the bar counter with a burp. “I always am, darling.”

He slides off his stool and trudges off to find Jehan Prouvaire in the corner, who, unbeknownst to Éponine and Enjolras until fairly recently, Grantaire’s been dating for some time now. She turns to gaze up at the golden-haired man with a little smile on her face as Ellie Goulding comes on, and she laughs out loud, remembering how this same song had been playing on the night they met.

“Want to dance, pretty boy?” Éponine asks, grinning up at him and echoing her words from two months ago when they first met. Has it really only been two months?

Enjolras rolls his eyes and plays along, replying, “Sure.”

He lets her drag him out to the dance floor where some other people are gathered, dancing and letting loose to the music, and Éponine lets him twirl her around and laughs the whole time while he’s doing so. Love, as she’s found, is easy—making it work, however, is not. She’s sure they’ll be just fine, having become wiser from her past failed relationships and knowing that they’ll work through their problems together. If there’s one thing she knows now, it’s that when they inevitably get into fights, it won’t be her versus him—it’ll be them versus the problem, and she’s determined to keep that in mind whenever they run into bumps along the way.

For now, she lets herself let loose to the music, dancing with him as if they have no cares in the world. He pulls her into his arms, the two of them stopping in the middle of the dance floor, his arms wrapped around her waist as she moves her arms to wrap around his neck.

“I love you,” Enjolras whispers to her, blue eyes shining.

Éponine can’t help but smile at his words, gazing up into his eyes as she whispers back, “I love you, too.”

He smiles at her words and pulls her in for a kiss, his lips capturing hers, and she eagerly kisses him back, not caring about how there are probably people watching and how Grantaire is probably taking a photograph of that moment at this very second. All she can focus on is Enjolras and how perfect his lips feel against hers as his tongue delves into her mouth, and yeah, maybe it’s in poor taste to make out like this in such a public setting, but Éponine can’t bring herself to care, kissing him back equally passionately as the world around them falls away.

In that one perfect moment, she really and truly believes they’ll be okay.

**Author's Note:**

> lemme know what you think! ;)


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